


Destiny

by oh_sugarsnaps



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: AU In Which Sophie Is Not Cursed, Angst and Humor, F/M, I began writing this when I was 14, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Please forgive like the entire first half of this story, Slow Burn, Some Pride & Prejudice References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 100,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_sugarsnaps/pseuds/oh_sugarsnaps
Summary: Sophie Hatter is unhappily engaged to the dull Mr. Collins. However, when she meets a handsome man on May Day, her uneventful life unravels.Or:AU in which Sophie is not cursed.





	1. In Which an Introduction is Given

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I posted this on Fanfiction.net. I was recommended to upload this to AO3 by Amongthedeep (unsure if the username is the same here as on Fanfiction.net), so here it is! Please be patient with this story; I started writing it when I was 14 and now I'm 25, so the beginning chapters are rough. Thanks for reading. :)

In the land of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes.

Sophie Hatter was the eldest of three sisters. She had ginger-"red gold," Sophie always called it-hair, and was a lovely young woman. She was only eighteen, but was quite mature for her age, as her mother had died when she was two and her sister Lettie was one. Sophie's father, although he loved his children dearly and tried to give them the best of the best, was busy working in the hatshop the family owned, so his eldest daughter was the one who mainly looked after her younger sister.

Mr. Hatter soon married Fanny, a young shop assistant. Fanny gave birth to Martha, the third daughter. She loved all three girls equally, never favoring her own daughter in the least. While Fanny tried to be mother-like to the girls, she was often busy helping her husband in the shop. Sophie became quite skilled in breaking up squabbles between Lettie and Martha, and acted almost as a mother would to the two younger children.

The girls went to school, and all three received good grades. Sophie, however, loved to learn. While Lettie and Martha did well, they just didn't have a passion for knowledge. Because of Sophie's love for learning, she discovered quickly that being the eldest was a terrible burden. You could not live life as you would like, because you'd most certainly fail. After learning this, she felt rather sorry for herself, then decided to help Lettie and Martha become very successful.

Unfortunately, Mr. Hatter passed away, leaving Fanny to manage the shop alone. Soon, the tiny hat shop gained more popularity; in fact, it became too popular for Fanny to handle alone. After a given amount of time, when Sophie was eighteen, Lettie was seventeen, and Martha was fourteen, the two younger girls were sent away to live as apprentices.

Sophie was left to create hats for the hat shop for the rest of her life.

At first, Sophie didn't mind so much. After all, she  _was_ the eldest. It was her duty to work in her family's hat shop, even though it wasn't exactly her first choice in a career. But she really had no other option. After a couple weeks, the job turned into a boring, dull occupation. Not to mention, Sophie was stuck in a room with many middle-aged to elderly women, and no young girls to talk with. Sometimes, Sophie had to resort to speaking with hats. If she didn't, surely she'd forget how to speak.

A few months after Sophie started working in the hat shop, Fanny had come into the workroom with a happy grin on her face.

"Sophie, my dear, I have some splendid news for you!" she cried to her stepdaughter, the grin on her face seeming to get larger by the second, if that was possible.

Sophie blinked. "What is it?" she inquired. What could possibly be "splendid news" for the eldest daughter?

"My friend has a son who is only five years old than you. I've met him, and he seems like a fine gentleman. Not to mention, he's absolutely rich! He's a perfect match for you, Sophie! If you two marry, then you will never have to work in the hat shop! Doesn't that sound wonderful?! ...Er, Sophie dear, are you listening?" Fanny asked, finally noticing Sophie's blank stare.

"...Marriage?"

"Yes, dear. I know you're only eighteen, but many women marry at your age."

"I'll marry a man I've never met?"

"Well, of course you'll meet him before the wedding! Oh, Sophie, I'm positively sure you'll love him! He's quite handsome too."

"Of course, he's wealthy, too," Sophie said with a sigh. She couldn't see any way of getting out of this. Fanny was so excited about the match, and the man's money would help Fanny with some financial issues she'd been having. Plus, Sophie wouldn't have to work at the hat shop anymore. It was a win-win situation.

But what if she didn't love this man?

 _Oh, for goodness' sake! Don't be so selfish, Sophie! This is a great opportunity! I should at least meet him,_ she decided.

"Alright. I'll meet him."

"Wonderful!" Fanny gave her stepdaughter a hug that nearly sufficated Sophie. "I'll have him over for dinner tonight. Lettie and Martha are going to be stopping by for dinner anyway to visit, so you won't feel so shy."

"I-isn't it going to be on too short a notice for him?"

"Actually, I had already asked him yesterday. He said it'd be fine," Fanny replied.

Sophie bit her tongue so she wouldn't snap, "You were going to have him over whether I agreed to it or not, weren't you?!" Instead, she replied with a simple, "Oh."

After Sophie calmed down a bit, she asked what the man's name was.

"Mr. William Collins," said her stepmother, who was busy giving change to a woman in the shop.


	2. In Which May Day and a Stranger Arrive

Dinner had been a most horrendous, insufferable event. Mr. Collins could try out for a boring contest, and would be turned away because they would not accept professionals. He was not terribly ugly, but he was not handsome either. He was an arrogant, self-centered person who cared only for himself and money. He even went so far as to insult the girls' deceased father about his business and the foolishness of paying so much for the girls' education!

Sophie's sisters had acted ecstatic enough at the thought of a suitor for their sister during the dinner. However, Martha and Lettie spoke their minds as soon as Mr. Collins departed...

" _How!_ How could you  _possibly_ try to manipulate Sophie into giving this...this..." Lettie stuttered.

"Fool?" supplied Martha, who didn't want to say what she really thought he was in fear that she would suffer her mother's wrath for using foul language.

"-a chance?! And you actually want Sophie to  _marry_ him?! Fanny, he is the most-"

Martha decided it was her time to rant. "-Selfish, annoying man, and he acts like he doesn't even have feelings for anything! He treats us all like items instead of people! Just imagine how he'll treat Sophie if they wed! You already have her slaving away for you here at the hat shop! The only reason it's doing so well is because of Sophie, who you don't even pay! (Ahem) But back to the main point: If you force Sophie to marry Mr. Collins, she'll be miserable. Is that really what you want for her?"

Sophie thought this was rather harsh of them. After all, she knew that Fanny only wanted what was best for Sophie.

Sophie's opinion soon changed of her stepmother when she heard the older woman's response to the rantings. "Now, now, girls. Mr. Collins is a very successful man. Sophie will have a secure future. You don't hear her complaining about Mr. Collins, do you?"

Sophie gathered her courage. "Actually, I can't say I like-"

Fanny cut her stepdaughter off. "Sophie, think about the shop. We've been suffering some financial difficulties lately; Mr. Collins's money will be a great help. We'll be well to do, and you won't have to work hard in order to make ends meet when you start a family with Mr. Collins."

 _Have a family with Mr. Collins?_ The very thought made Sophie ill.

"Mother, don't you dare try and make Sophie feel guilty about not marrying that man," Martha said warningly. "This is not about you or the shop; we're talking about Sophie's future husband, for goodness's sake!"

But Fanny's method worked. Sophie felt awful. She was being so selfish, wasn't she? "Alright," Sophie muttered, almost inaudibly. "I'll marry him."

Fanny obviously didn't feel any remorse for forcing such a fate on Sophie. "Wonderful! Oh, I just  _knew_ you'd understand! We will have the wedding in two months. Mr. Collins's parents and I had already discussed the wedding plans. You're such a lucky girl, Sophie!"

"Yes...lucky..." Sophie weakly replied, an equally weak smile on her face. She could hardly believe what she had just agreed to. There was no way she'd ever be able to love Mr. Collins.

But then, love had nothing to do with anything. Love seemed to be something that was only to be found in fairy tales. Or at least for people that were not the eldest.

As Sophie saw her sisters to the door to bid them farewell, they tried once more to convince her to change her mind on the marriage.

"You deserve so much better, Sophie!" Lettie and Martha cried simultaniously.

The eldest girl shook her head sadly. "Fanny's right. It's for the best that I marry him. Besides, I could've had a worse fiance. I could've had someone who struck me whenever they got a little angry at me. Or someone who was a heavy alcoholic. William Collins doesn't seem to be either, so..."

"He's still so...AGH! Come on, Martha: We can't change Sophie's mind. She's far too nice to think of not marrying him." Lettie sighed and hugged her sister. "I do wish you'd change your mind." Martha agreed completely.

Sophie smiled, touched by her sisters' concern. "Thanks, but I'll be alright. Mr. Collins isn't so bad." Inside, each of the three girls cringed with the thought of Sophie standing at the alter with the man.

The two girls departed reluctantly, and Sophie went to bed, her mind heavy with worry. Soon, she fell asleep, weary from the events that had taken place.

**ONE MONTH LATER...**

It was now May Day. For an entire month, Sophie had been engaged to Mr. Collins (she did not want to call him William; it was not as if they were on a friendly acquaintance). Their meetings were absolutely boring, and Sophie considered pretending to catch a sudden illness whenever they were supposed to go out together.

To say that Sophie hated Mr. Collins would be a fib. She didn't loathe him, but she didn't like him either. His companionship was even more torturous than when they had first met.

Today, Sophie was technically supposed to meet Mr. Collins to have "a good look at the May Day festivities. It's always quite enjoyable to mock those fools who become so excited about such a silly holiday" (Mr. Collins said this, not Sophie). But the girl had other ideas. She hated being in large crowds by herself to a great extent, but she certainly did not want to be in one with Mr. Collins as her only companion. She would much rather spend May Day visiting Lettie in Cesari's.

So she snuck out. Sophie felt rather bad about being so mean, but if she saw Mr. Collins again without venting her frustrations to her sister beforehand, she would scream.

The redhead, wearing a hideous grey dress that she commonly wore while making hats, couldn't help but notice that she stuck out like a sore thumb when compared to the colorful dresses the many beautiful women of Market Chipping wore. But Sophie was not one to be vain, and focused her attention on simply getting to Cesari's as soon as possible.

Slipping into an alleyway, away from the bustle of the crowds, she sighed with relief. The months of working in solitude in the hat shop were paying their toll. There was a great comfort in only being able to hear your own breath and the padding of your own feet on the stony road. Oh, wait a moment. That wasn't just her own feet...

"Why, hello there," a voice said, startling Sophie. Her head flew up, and she saw a handsome man standing before her. But he was a little too close for comfort.

"Er, um, hello," Sophie stuttered, utterly embarrassed by her shyness as she took a step back.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a boring place like this? Come on, I'll take you out for a drink..."

"P-please, I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave me alone. I'm in a hurry..." Sophie tried to walk around the man, but he grabbed her arm.

"Wait. Since you're so scared, I'll walk you over to wherever you need to go. Don't worry, I won't hurt you, you little mouse. Now, where is it that you need to go?"

Sophie looked up finally at the man's face. He had blonde hair and glassy eyes, and must have been in his twenties. He was even more handsome than she had first thought, now that she'd gotten a better glimpse of him. The man noticed her staring and smirked slightly, but kept the coureous attitude.

"Do you enjoy staring at men's faces, or is it just mine?" he joked.

Sophie's face turned beet red, and she averted her eyes elsewhere. "I-I'm sorry. But will you please let me go?" she asked, nodding towards her arm that was still in the stranger's grip.

"I only want to make sure..." the man started with a smooth voice.

She knew she would not get rid of him at this rate. "If you're trying to get a dancing partner for the upcoming May Day dance, then I suggest you give up your search, because if you keep acting like this, you'll scare away all the girls!"

The man widened his eyes in surprised, then used his free hand to make a motion as though swatting a bug. "You have quite an interesting power there. If I wasn't used to magic, your curse would have gotten to me."

Sophie blinked, and stopped struggling. "Curse? Power?"

"You told me that I'd scare off all the girls. I probably would have if I hadn't gotten rid of your curse. You didn't mean for it to have a magical effect when you said it, so it wasn't too powerful."

Sophie continued to gape at the stranger. "Curse?" she managed to squeak again.

The man took on a bewildered expression, letting go of her arm as soon as he realized she wasn't about to leave. "You didn't know you had powers? Huh," he said, scratching his perfect hair. "Well, you're quite able to talk life into things. Everyone who's magical has a different talent, and that's yours."

Sophie woke up from her stupor. She shook her head vehemently. "Oh, no, sir. I think you must be mistaken. There's no way-I mean, I have-I'm the  _eldest_ ," she finally managed to say.

"So?"

Sophie stared some more at him. "I'm the  _eldest_. Of three." She said it slower, as if that would make him understand. He just continued to blink at her. She sighed of exhasperation. "I'm the eldest. I'm not supposed to have special talents, other than at being a failure."

"You believe that fairy-tale logic?" he asked. "You must be joking!"

"Well, it's true," Sophie said, suddenly indignant. She didn't like being made fun of. Suddenly, she heard a voice calling, "Miss Hatter!" It was Mr. Collins's.

"Drat!" she cried out loud. Talking out loud had become a habit of hers ever since she started working at the hat shop. "He's noticed I'm not home!"

She was about to go running off into the crowd in search of Cesari's, when the stranger asked, "Who are you running from?"

Sophie was far too nice to run off without answering. But she wasn't nice enough to keep from answering curtly, "My fiance. Mr. Collins. He's trying to find me so we can go make fun of other people's enjoyment, because he can't seem to find any happiness in anything else other than himself. Not that it's your business, of course. Now, please excuse me."

The man still wouldn't let her go; a sly smile was on his face. "In just one moment."

"What?" Sophie cried, utterly exhasperated. "What now?"

"What's your name?"

Sophie was too frustrated to think about the consequences there might be in giving the man her name, such as him asking around for a Sophie Hatter. "Sophie Hatter. And yours?" she asked, with bitter politeness.

The sly grin widened. "Howl." Sophie didn't contemplate on the meaning of his name. Instead, she just ran away from the approaching voice. She heard Howl say behind her to a person who was inevitably Mr. Collins, "No, I'm sorry. I haven't seen your fiance." Sophie mentally thanked him. She exited the alley and began to blend in with the crowd.

Only later, after speaking with Lettie and spending some time alone at Cesari's while Lettie worked, did Sophie realize that Howl possessed the same name as the infamous Howl who possessed a moving castle and supposedly hearts and souls of girls he courted.


	3. In Which Sophie Seeks Her Fortune

Sophie made a knot, sewed, and spoke to the hat as she decorated it. All in all, it was a normal day. She acted in her typical manner, pretending that nothing unusual happened over May Day, which was just yesterday. In fact, the only thing eventful that had happened since May Day was that Fanny had scolded her for being so cruel to Mr. Collins.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick-and so has Mr. Collins! He stopped by to see you, and you were gone..." Fanny had ranted on and on. Mrs. Fairfax, Fanny's friend and Martha's teacher, had been sipping tea with Fanny when Sophie had returned home. As Fanny lectured Sophie, who hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, Mrs. Fairfax, who was known for being a chatterbox herself, seemed impressed with Fanny's ongoing scolding.

When the lecture lasted longer than three minutes, Sophie eventually stopped listening. Instead, she had thought of Howl. She was incredibly lucky indeed to have escaped with her heart and soul intact.

"...Because of your selfish behavior, you may not go out this week."

Sophie did her best to put on a disappointed face. "I understand."

"Good. Now, would you mind working on some of the hats, dear?"

Sophie rushed off to do her work, smiling to herself.  _What luck!_ she thought with glee.  _Now I don't have to go on one of those dreadful outings with Mr. Collins!_ A sudden thought struck her, wiping the grin off her face.  _But that also means he can always visit me at home. I'll be stuck with him and I'll have nothing else to do but speak with him._ Sophie mentally cried an unladylike word she had learned from Martha.

Now, as Sophie sewed, she realized it was rather rude of her to jilt Mr. Collins. She would have to get used to him, if she was going to be his wife. The very thought of it made her shudder.

"That's quite enough of that attitude, Sophie!" she scolded herself, which struck her as very Fanny-like. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and went back to work.

"It's my duty. If it's what Fanny thinks is best, then I should obey her." Another thought occured to her. "But I  _am_ eighteen. I can decide what I want to do on my own. I don't always have to do her bidding!"

Sophie kept going back and forth, becoming more and more confused as to what was right and what was wrong. Suddenly, a knock came from the door. It was Mr. Collins.

"Hmm. I thought you were with someone else, Miss Hatter. I thought I heard you talking to someone."

Sophie normally would have been embarrassed that someone heard her talking to herself in such a fashion, but she was quite sick of Mr. Collins at the moment and lashed out, "Maybe I was just talking to myself. There's no one else to talk to in this place!"

Mr. Collins appeared mildly surprised to hear Sophie talk like that (at least, as surprised as his blank face could look) and he paused. Then, he replied with what he thought would be the best answer, "You could talk to me if you would like."

"You? YOU? Talking to you is like talking to a hat! No, wait, that's insulting to the hats. The bonnets are better conversationalists and are much less egotistical and self-absorbed than you!" Sophie yelled.

Mr. Collins's brow furrowed. "Women shouldn't speak against men," he said quietly. "When you're my wife, we'll have to do something about that, won't we? I don't want a headstrong woman as my wife. Wives are submissive."

"GAH!" Sophie cried, grabbing a hat she had finished minutes earlier and pulling it on top of her head. "I'm done with this place! I'm done with you! I can't STAND you!" She walked angrily out of the workroom and ran to her bedroom.

Mr. Collins caught up to her and stood at her bedroom door. "Where are you going?" he inquired, genuinely confused.

"OUT!"

"I'm not letting you go in this state. You might cause yourself to faint with excitement, and people will blame me for letting you go outside. Besides, women should always remain indoors unless they need to shop for necessities."

Upon hearing this, Sophie decided to try something Horrible Howl had mentioned. "Go away," she commanded fiercely. "Go to your home, then come back for me." That would give her plenty of time to leave.

A small part of Sophie that wasn't sick of the world was shocked when Mr. Collins began looking bewildered and his feet began shuffling towards the exit. Seeing that her words were working, she kept repeating them until Mr. Collins's feet began taking him back home.

Feeling greatly pleased, she packed her things.  _I'll find my fortune,_ she thought.  _I'll find it my way, not by marrying some stuffy man that I don't care for and who doesn't care for me either!_ She left her room, pausing briefly only to look in the room she had lived in for the past eighteen years. A small wave of sorrow passed over her, but she brushed it off.

She felt calmer, which was a problem. It's much easier to leave home feeling angry, because then you don't want to go back, at least for a while. She wanted to tell Fanny she was leaving for good, but she restrained herself. If Sophie told Fanny, her stepmother would try to make Sophie feel guilty for trying to leave and would get her to apologize to Mr. Collins and go through with the wedding.

Taking a deep breath, Sophie grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote,

**_Dear Fanny,_ **

**_I'm sorry to be leaving without saying goodbye. Please don't look for me. I'll be fine. I'm going to search for my fortune-a fortune that does not involve Mr. Collins-and it may be quite a while until you hear from me again. I cannot go through with the marriage-I'm sorry to disappoint you-and I can't stand Mr. Collins. Good luck with the hat shop._ **

**_Love,  
Sophie_ **

**_P.S. Tell Mr. Collins for me that perhaps his next fiancee will be a "submissive", meek woman who doesn't know her own mind. He'll understand what I mean.  
_ **

Sophie left the note on her bed in plain sight.  _Now,_ she wondered,  _where should I start my search for my fortune?_ Somewhere outside of Market Chipping, to be sure.

Porthaven. That sounded nice. She always wanted to see the sea. She had money for the journey. Gathering her luggage, she left the building that had been her home for all her eighteen years. Sophie glanced over her shoulder but once, then continued on her way, refusing to shy away from this one chance of receiving her fortune, whether she was the eldest of three or not.

_"You believe that fairy-tale logic? You must be joking!"_

Although Howl had made her feel like a fool, thinking back, Sophie was rather comforted by those words. It was the first time someone outside of the family had made her feel like she could accomplish anything, whether she was born first or not.

Sophie caught herself and shook her head to clear her thoughts.  _What am I thinking about him for? He eats girls' hearts and steals their souls! I shouldn't be thinking like this!_

She continued walking quickly down the road. A voice suddenly called out to her. "Miss Hatter! Sophie Hatter!"

Instictively, Sophie picked up the pace, worrying that her mysterious power didn't work and that it was Mr. Collins. She quickly dodged into a nearby alleyway. The calling stopped abruptly, which made Sophie pause and lean against the stony wall with a sigh of relief.

"Running from your fiance again?"

With an "eep!", Sophie whirled around, finding herself face-to-face with Horrible Howl. He smirked, but for an evil person, it didn't scare Sophie. Much.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you." He smiled. "We seem to have a habit of bumping into each other here, don't we?"

Sophie gathered her bearings. "W-were you the one calling for me back on the main street?"

"That's right. You didn't have to run away like that, you know. I don't literally eat girls' hearts, or their souls!" he laughed.

Sophie bit back a mystified, "You don't?" and instead said, "How did you get here so quickly? You were behind me before!"

Howl chuckled. "I have powers too, you know."

"O-oh, right, of course," Sophie stuttered, feeling quite foolish.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Which one?" Sophie asked in spite of herself.  _I really should be on my way now,_ she thought.  _I don't want to be caught before I leave Market Chipping!_

Howl answered, "Running away from your fiance. Are you?"

"No...Well, sort of...It's a long story," was what she settled on.

"I have time," Howl said, leaning against the wall, yet not dirtying his fancy suit.

"I don't. If you'll excuse me, I have to go." Sophie picked up her luggage, which she had dropped out of surprise in seeing Howl, and took a step towards the main street.

"Do you need any help carrying that?" he asked, nodding towards her bags.

"I'm fine, thank you," Sophie replied as she peeked her head out and looked to see if there was any sign of either her mother or Mr. Collins. After a pause, she asked Howl, "Do you happen to know which direction is Porthaven?"

"I see. So you're running off to Porthaven?" Seeing Sophie's flush and her nod, he said, "Well then, I'll do better than tell you where it is; I'll take you there myself." Grabbing her hand before she could protest, Howl uttered a strange word. Wind blew round the two, and in an instant they were gone.


	4. In Which Sophie Enters Into a Moving Castle and a Contract

"You can open your eyes now," Howl said in an amused voice once the wind settled.

Hesitantly, Sophie opened one eye, followed quickly by the other one. "Oh...my..." she breathed.

Before them was a giant black...thing. In fact, it was so bulky and dark Sophie was unable to decipher what it was. "What...is that?" she wondered aloud, both to Howl and herself.

"My castle."

The moving castle. She, Sophie Hatter, was face to face with Howl's moving castle. It was known for venturing around the countryside. She had seen it before, yes, but always from a distance. She was now only a few yards away from the feared home of Howl, and Sophie was unable to keep from shuddering. Howl had already claimed that the rumors concerning him devouring souls and hearts of innocent girls were false, but he  _was_ Horrible Howl. He could have easily lied. He seemed like a smooth enough talker; after all, he had tricked her into thinking he wasn't really as bad as the stories made him out to be, but here he brings her to his castle after she decides to run away because he knew that no one would realize he had taken her and, oh no, what was he going to do to her now? This was bad, oh so very bad. This was exactly why everyone always said the eldest was the most likely to fail when seeking their fortune. Why didn't Sophie listen? She should've married that bothersome Mr. Collins and behaved ladylike and as she was supposed to and pretend like she didn't have a will or a brain of her own and everything would've been just fine, but  _noooo_ , she had to go and run away!

Sophie's anger began to increase, resulting from her behavior and from being born the oldest of three sisters and from that stupid Mr. Collins being so infuriating and from Howl dragging her to his bloody castle.

Howl was saying cheerfully, obviously unaware of Sophie's inner turmoil, "Well, we better go ahead inside and I'll introd-"

Sophie would have slapped him, but it seemed like that would be going easy on him. Instead, she folded her hand into a fist, which collided with Howl's pretty face.

As she had never done something like that before, it was a weak punch and didn't hurt much. It was enough, however, to startle Howl into glaring at her and yelling, "What was that for?" He rubbed his reddening cheek as his glassy blue eyes glared at her. His empty eyes frightened Sophie a bit, but she was glad for an opportunity to argue.

"What do you mean, 'What was that for'?!" she yelled. "You kidnapped me, you...you...you cad!"

Howl glared and then sighed. "This is the thanks I get for saving you. Do you know how many dangerous people won't hesitate to attack a travelling young girl who has run away from home?"

Sophie let out an unladylike snort. "Like you, for example?"

Howl said laughingly, his anger apparently gone, "My dear Sophie! I'm wicked, but I won't hurt a mouse like you!" He thought for a moment. "Although, it seems you can hold your own if you are angry enough."

"Y-you...GAH!" She whirled around and grabbed her bags. "Good-bye!" She set off in the direction of Market Chipping.

"Where are you going? I thought you were heading towards Porthaven?"

"I am!" Sophie shouted at him, never looking back at him.

"Trust me, this is as good a shortcut as you can get!" Howl said, obviously amused by Sophie's behavior.

Sophie, in spite of herself, looked back warily. "What do you mean? This is your castle, not Porthaven."

"Quite right. Here, follow me and I'll explain." He walked towards his castle.

Sophie paused. This couldn't be a good idea, following Horrible Howl right into his domain. But her curiosity once again got the better of her. She would just stay close to the door at all times, that's all. She would be ready to bolt out of the building as soon as things got dangerous.

Sophie did not notice when Howl noticed her following and smiled to himself.

Howl held the door open for her as she ventured carefully into the unknown. To her shock, it wasn't scary in the least. Well, there was a skull there on the table, and Sophie couldn't help but cringe when she saw what a pigsty the place was. But there weren't bottles labeled "HEARTS" as far as she could see, which was a relief. There was a fire in the grate, which crackled as if in greeting. A boy entered the room hastily.

"Howl, you're back! I've been working on-" His voice trailed off as he stared at the girl beside his master. "Um, hello."

"Hello," Sophie replied with an uncertain smile. This boy didn't seem like the kind of person that would work for a man like Howl.

"Sophie, this is Michael Fisher, my apprentice. Michael, this is Sophie Hatter. She'll be living here with us."

Sophie blinked. Michael, obviously feeling as shocked as she felt, said, "Er, alright. Welcome to the moving castle, Sophie." He smiled, but the confusion was clear in his eyes.

"Thank you but-" she threw a hard glance at Howl "-I never said I'd be living here."

Michael watched in awe; this was the first time any of Howl's girlfriends put him in his place! Sophie seemed nice enough though, and at least she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. "I, er, need to pick up some things in town. Nice meeting you, Sophie!" he said, sensing the impending argument.

Michael squeezed between the two and changed Sophie watching in shock as he turned a knob to a different color. She forgot about her anger at Howl for a moment and watched in amazement as Michael opened the door to reveal a town near the sea. She saw a glimpse of a sign that said "Porthaven".

She stared at the door a few heartbeats after he closed it, and turned slowly to Howl. "How did he  _do_ that?"

Howl looked at the door, not hiding his pride. "I created it. It's meant to give us some sense of security and it's convenient for going to quite a few towns."

Sophie caught on. "Then, Porthaven..."

"...Is right through that door," finished Howl.

"Incredible," Sophie breathed. Glancing at Howl, she said, "May I?"

"Of course," he responded with a low bow.

Sophie snorted and rolled her eyes at his dramatic gesture as she went up to the door. She slowly raised her hand to the knob and gave it a turn. "Which one's Market Chipping?" she asked Howl, but he was no longer paying her any mind. He was hovering over the fire, getting food ready.

She shrugged, and reached out to play with the knob. Howl's voice stopped her for a second. "Don't open the door with the black side down."

"Why not?" asked the ever-curious Sophie.

"Because, my dear Sophie, it's full of evil creatures that will devour you in an instant."

Sophie snorted at his tone; it was obvious that he was lying, but Sophie didn't want to risk it. She was about to start fiddling with the knob again when Howl once again interrupted.

"Lunch is ready, if you're hungry."

Sophie raised an eyebrow at him. "You cook?"

Howl put his hand on his chest and gave her a pained look. "Sophie, you underestimate me! Of course I can cook!"

"Then why don't you clean?"

"..." Howl handed her a plate full of food. It was just now that Sophie realized how starving she was. She did not even toy with the idea that Howl might have put a curse on her food, or that he was trying to trick her into being comfortable enough so he could eat her heart without a struggle. She just ate and considered how big a miracle it was that the food wasn't covered in dirt like the rest of the castle. Apparently, when you transport from one place to another in the blink of an eye, it makes you work up an appetite.

Once Sophie was done with that helping, she went to cook herself another meal. "You can't," Howl protested, although he made no move to stop her.

"Why not?" She certainly didn't see the lazy man getting up to cook something for her a second time.

"Calcifer won't let you."

"Who?"

"The fire."

Sophie didn't particularly like how he seemed so amused over this, and snorted. "Oh, I'm  _sure_ the fire will let me, won't you, Fire, or Calcifer, or whatever your name is?" she addressed the fire with mock seriousness.

Sophie pretended it had eyes looking at her and a mouth frowning at her. She squinted for a moment, then gasped and jumped away when she realized it really  _did_ have a face, and a rather frightening one too, at that.

It grinned at her reaction. "Well, you didn't freak out nearly as much as I thought you would. You're calmer about this than Michael was when he first realized I was alive. I'm impressed!"

Howl jumped in for the introductions. "Calcifer, this is Miss Sophie Hatter, the new resident of the castle. Sophie, this is Calcifer."

Sophie gulped, cleared her throat, and curtsyed. "P-pleased to meet you, Calcifer."

"I have to say, Howl, you did a good job picking this one. She looks like she's a smart one. But you probably weren't thinking about that when you picked her, huh?" he asked with a roll of his eyes. To Sophie, he said, "You're the first one of Howl's girls to meet me. Congratulations."

This would be a moment where, if Sophie was drinking water, she'd spit it out. "I am  _not_ 'Howl's girl'," she said vehemently, cringing at the mere idea.

"You don't need to be so disgusted," Howl said in a hurt voice.

"Anyway," Sophie continued, ignoring the drama king beside her, "I'm not staying here."

Calcifer raised a firy eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. It was a pleasure to meet you, Calcifer, but I must be going now." She turned on her heel and went towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Suddenly, Howl was right beside her. "You can't just leave. Where else will be safe for you to go?"

"As if living here is safe," retorted Sophie. "I'm going home. It was foolish to try and seek my own fortune. I'm the eldest, after all," she said, her voice cracking a bit at the end.

Howl gently grabbed her and looked at her, his eyes, for once, serious. "And marry that ex-fiance of yours?"

Sophie averted her eyes.

"You're different than the other girls here, Sophie. You aren't afraid to do something that most girls wouldn't even consider. You broke off a ridiculous engagement, ran away from home, and wanted to make your way in the world even though you're the eldest. You can't just go back."

He was right. She knew it. But still, being here? In Howl's moving castle? It wasn't just indecent, it was ridiculous!

...And yet...

Biting her lip for a moment, Sophie then replied, "I'll be your cleaning lady. This place needs to be cleaned up. And if you try to do anything, you'll regret it," she threatened, struggling not to blush too much.

Looking pleased, Howl held up his right hand and swore he wouldn't do anything. Sophie wasn't sure if she should trust him, but she sighed and muttered, "Well, all right, then."

Howl cheerfully told her that she could sleep in the space underneath the steps, and with that, he waved his hands and made a bed appear inside the little space. Sophie thanked him, albeit somewhat stiffly, and brought her bags into her "room". Howl then announced he was leaving; he had business to attend to. Sophie wanted to say, "What, tricking innocent girls into thinking your decent?" but held her tongue.  _I'm still rather mousy after all,_ she mused with a smile.

He left, and for the first time Sophie was left completely to her thoughts. It was completely ironic-mousy Sophie, becoming not-so-mousy and breaking an engagement, then running away from home only to become the cleaning lady for Horrible Howl. Sophie now wondered whether it was a blessing or a mistake. Yes, she had a roof over her head, an occupation, she could live in multiple places at once, and she wasn't expected to pay rent, but she was also taking residing in the infamous moving castle. She decided she would live here until she gained enough money to find a better place. Until then, she would make do.

The fire creature in the hearth called her over, interrupting her thoughts. She went over cautiously, wondering,  _If Calcifer gets angry at me, will he burn me?_

"So, you'll be living with us, will you?" he asked, his grin showing his pointy teeth.

"For now, I suppose." She paused. "I'm sorry if this seems rude, but...well, I never really conversed with a fire before, so...what  _are_ you?"

"Can't say, sorry. What I can say, though," here, his grin grew wider, "is that Howl and I have a contract."

Sophie blinked. "A contract?"

"Yep. It keeps me chained And you have the ability to break the contract."

"Me?" Sophie gaped at Calcifer. What on earth made him think she could break it?

"You have more power than you realize. I can tell just by looking at you. But anyway, you seem like a person who doesn't like to see other beings, human or no, suffering, and you wouldn't want me to suffer, right?" Calcifer gave her a pleading look.

"In other words, your exploiting me," Sophie observed, already feeling herself wanting to agree to help him.

"No! I'm the one being exploited! I'm stuck in this stupid hearth all the time, and I have to heat the water, cook the food, and move the castle! It's too much for one little guy!"

Sophie thought about how, in the hat shop, she felt exploited and wanted so desperately for it to end. Sophie bit her lip, thinking. Then, "Alright. I'll help you. But how do I break it?"

"I like you," announced Calcifer, replacing his pitiful look with a joyful one. "Howl needs someone like you around; you might rub off on him. I can't exactly tell you how to break the contract, but I'll tell you what, I'll give you hints. When you find out something that'll help break the contract, I can talk about that a little bit with you, but if you don't, I can't."

Sophie frowned. "This is going to be hard, isn't it?" She sighed. "Well, I'm ready for my first hint."

"I can't tell you when you're expecting a hint. That's telling you information. Hints have to be subtle," informed Calcifer.

Sophie groaned. "Oh, for goodness's sake! Well, when am I  _possibly_ going to get a hint?" she demanded.

Calcifer cackled. "You have spunk, too! You might get one tomorrow."

"Well, alright, then." She glanced over at some bread and cheese. "Will you mind if I make grilled cheese?"

"No way!" Calcifer protested. "I never allow anyone to use me, except Howl, and that's just because he has that contract with me!"

"Oh, hush. It's not going to kill you. Besides, we have our own little agreement. If you don't let me cook, I may not be able to break your contract," Sophie said with a smile.

He grumbled, "You sadist," and got ready to cook. "I hope your grilled cheese burns."


	5. In Which Sophie Hears Terrible News

Within a few hours, Sophie realized cleaning Howl's castle was task more difficult than she had first thought. She had terrified Calcifer with her determined cleaning. Sophie discovered additional residents to Howl's moving castle: spiders. The poor creatures scrambled for shelter from her cleaning. By the time Michael came back, he did a double take as he realized the entire downstairs was nearly sparkling.

"Michael," wailed Calcifer, "you have no idea how lucky you are to be able to leave the castle whenever you want!"

Michael simply stared at the room. He had never, ever, in the entire time he had lived in the castle, seen it this clean. He could actually see the carpet in some places!

"What  _happened?_ " he breathed as he gaped at the sight.

"Sophie. Sophie happened," moaned Calcifer.

At that moment, Sophie, who had been upstairs surveying what there was to be done (and was finding that she felt quite overwhelmed), came down and noticed Michael. "Oh, hello," she said with a smile.

"Did you...did you actually manage to  _clean_ all this?" he replied in a shocked voice, waving his arms to gesture to the entire room.

Sophie grinned sheepishly. "Yes. Although there's still much more I have to do..."

Michael grinned. " I can't believe you managed to clean all this!"

Sophie wiped her forehead. "Yes, but there's still so much more...I have the hallway upstairs, your room-"

Michael's smile became frozen. "My room...?" He stood there for a second more, then ran upstairs quickly. As nice as Sophie seemed, she seemed dangerous with a broom. And having her attack  _his_ room...

"What was that all about?" Sophie wondered out loud. Shrugging, she went to the silverware and dishes. Upon opening the cupboards, she shrank back with disgust.  _Doesn't that man clean even when he's about to eat something?_

"Having fun?" Calcifer's voice cackled from the hearth, chuckling over the expression on Sophie's face.

She sighed in reply, then rolled up her sleeves.  _I insisted on being the cleaning lady. I can't just give up!_  She got back to work.

* * *

When Howl returned that evening, he appeared to think he walked into the wrong moving castle. "Well, Sophie," he said, sounding mightily pleased, "I must say, you did quite well, especially in only one day."

Sophie couldn't help but grin a bit as she continued eating her dinner. Howl looked shocked that she was able to "bully" Calcifer into cooking and said so. At this, Sophie's grin became an irritated frown and she retorted how it wasn't bullying; she and Calcifer simply had a compromise.

"Yeah, a compromise," Calcifer grumbled, sounding miserable. He then glared at Howl. "But at least she  _appreciates_ my work!"

Michael jumped in to prevent a row between the two. "Oh! So, Howl? I had a question about how to do this," he said quickly, changing the subject as he pointed to a sheet of paper.

Instead of Howl answering, he suddenly jumped up from his seat at the table. "Sophie!" he bellowed.

"I'm right here!" retorted the new cleaning lady. "You don't need to-"

"Spiders!" he cried, scrambling over to her. His face looked worried for the first time since Sophie met him.

Sophie frowned. "You mean there are still spiders here? I've been trying to get rid of those little beasts for at least a good five hours!"

Marble eyes glared at her. "You mean you've  _kicked out MY spiders_?"

Michael explained to Sophie, casting anxious glances towards Howl, "Um, Howl really loves spiders-"

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, SOPHIE?!" Howl bellowed, making the castle tremble. Michael covered his ears while Sophie winced. "YOU CAN'T JUST GO AROUND GETTING RID OF OTHER PEOPLE'S SPIDERS!"

"Wh-what," Sophie started, determined not to give in and cower. "Were those spiders actually the girls whose hearts you ate?"

To her surprise, Howl's expression turned from fury to a complete blank to exremely amused. "No, no, they were just simple spiders," he said, almost condescendingly. "And didn't I tell you that I don't actually eat hearts? What do you think of that, Miss Hatter?"

"I think," Sophie said slowly, folding her arms and looking away, "you have a personality disorder."

Obviously caught off guard, Calcifer cackled that fiery laugh of his, and even Michael ended up laughing. Sophie turned towards them, and giggled a bit to herself.

Howl frowned at Michael and Calcifer. The apprentice immediately looked embarrassed and ashamed of himself, while the fire creature continued to cackle.

"It's about time someone other than me put Horrible Howl in his place!" Calcifer cried.

"Believe me, Calcifer, you do it well enough by yourself," grumbled Howl. "And would you mind not laughing at my expense?" he told Sophie.

The latter, feeling strangely giddy, resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. What was it about this place? Perhaps Howl put an enchantment on her to make her not want to run away from the castle? No, she would have noticed. So why did she feel so at home here? Michael already felt like the younger brother she never had, and Calcifer, as frightening as he looked, was actually quite pleasant company. Not quite a friend-could one befriend fire?-but still, a nice acquaintance, whether he acted sarcastic or not.

And what did she think of Howl? Sophie was rather certain now that he wasn't as evil and conniving as she once thought. He had his faults, nonetheless. He was overly dramatic, seemed quite conceited, and did things without thinking-such as bringing Sophie to the moving castle.

...Then again, the only reason Howl had done so was to protect her. Thinking back, Sophie could have received a worse fate than cleaning the castle. As Howl had previously said, there were dangerous men that would attack a girl traveling by herself. Perhaps he really  _did_ take her to his castle to keep her safe, and not to do the opposite. But then, this  _was_ the man nicknamed Horrible Howl. There must have been some reason for his terrifying reputation. Perhaps he hadn't eaten hearts or captured souls, but he must have done  _something_ to make him so feared among the people of Market Chipping other than owning a frightening moving castle.

Sophie snapped out of her thoughts when she noticed Howl was actually being rather quiet for once. She looked at him and realized with a start that he was staring at her with a thoughtful expression.

"What is it?" Sophie asked, feeling frustrated that she could feel heat rushing to her cheeks.

"Nothing," responded Howl, unfazed. He continued to stare at her, curiosity in his eyes.

Sophie yanked her gaze from his and realized Michael had gone upstairs. Calcifer was being silent, hidden beneath the logs. The small, distorted light shining from beneath the logs cast a mysterious glow on Howl and Sophie. The light lit up his mesmerizing eyes, and made her red-gold hair sparkle.

Howl continued to stare at her.

"It's rude to stare," Sophie said quietly, trying to sound agitated but ended up coming across embarrassed.

"I'm just thinking," replied Howl. A small smile touched his lips. It wasn't a smirk, nor a teasing grin. It was genuine.

Sophie turned to the table to pick up the dishes, but realized the table was clean and clear of the dishes. She turned towards the sink and saw the dishes were being cleaned, stacked, and put away on their own.

She whirled around towards Howl. "Are you doing this?" she asked, pointing towards the flying dishes. She knew Howl had powers, but aside from him taking her to the moving castle, she'd never seen him use them.

Howl still had yet to take his eyes off her. "I was wondering when you'd notice," he said, his smile becoming larger.

"But...well...I'm supposed to...Why are you doing this?" she asked, still shocked.

Howl finally moved. He stood up and turned towards the stairs. Looking at her over his shoulder, he said, "I have to do something that will make you think better of me. After all, I'm thinking I just might fall in love with you next." With that, he bid her goodnight and went upstairs.


	6. In Which Sophie Makes a Mistake

Sophie stared at the spot where Howl had stood seconds before, the impact of his words sinking in.

_"After all, I'm thinking I just might fall in love with you next."_

He was just joking. It was just one horrible joke. He couldn't be planning on falling for her. It was...

Sophie slumped into a chair. She knew she wasn't ugly (she wouldn't go so far as to say she was beautiful), and Howl was interested in any girl who looked pretty, so was it possible...?

"Well, how about that?"

The girl nearly jumped five feet in the air, her heart thudding in her chest. "Calcifer!" she growled. "Don't scare me like that!"

The fire grinned. "Sorry."

"And what do you mean by 'how about that'? You weren't eavesdropping, were you?" Sophie narrowed her eyes.

"I can't help it. I'm  _stuck here_ ," he emphasised, all but saying, "You have to break the stupid contract if you want privacy!" He continued. "It breaks my  _heart_ to never get out of this hearth."

"Do you even have a heart?" Sophie asked skeptically.  _I'd rather be bickering with Calcifer than dwelling on the fact that Howl just might be about to fall for me. Oh dear, I just thought of it again!_

"Yes, I do," Calcifer stated, looking at Sophie expectantly.

"Alright, so you may have a heart. Anyway," she said, standing up, "I'm going to bed."

His shimmering face fell, then replied, "This early?"

"It's been a long day. I'm tired."

Calcifer smiled maniacly. "I'm sure you have had a long day, especially with Howl saying-"

"Shut  _up_!" With that, Sophie stormed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

* * *

Sophie walked out of her little "bedroom" the next morning, her face visibly showing the weariness of yesterday's work and a restless night. She had spent hours thinking about what Howl had said. And when she would stop thinking of Howl, she'd think triumphantly, _That's right. No more thinking about Howl. Or that he might fall for me. Or... Oh, drat,_ she would then groan mentally as her mind went right back to the very subject she was trying so desperately to ignore.

"Good morning, Calcifer," she said quietly to the fire, who was just beginning to awaken.

"Mornin', Sophie. Have trouble sleeping? You look tired," he said with a grin that would look malicious to most people.

"I suppose I'm just tired from cleaning all day yesterday," she replied, annoyed. Calcifer was just loving this, wasn't he?

"Suuuuure," he drawls.

Sophie shot him a glare in response.

"Morning!" Sophie turned to see Michael practically skip down the steps.

"Good morning, Michael. I was just about to start making breakfast," replied Sophie, sending a meaningful look at the fire before Calcifer could protest.

"Fine," Calcifer grumbled as Sophie began cracking some eggs.

Michael spoke up cheerfully. "None for me, thanks. I'm going out."

He whistled as he walked to the door, turning the dial and walking out the door. Sophie and Calcifer looked at each other. "What was that all about?" they said in unison.

"What was what all about?" a third voice asked from the stairs. Sophie froze.

Calcifer spoke up when Sophie didn't mutter a word. "Michael was happy this morning," he said with a meaningful tone.

Sophie heard Howl come down the steps and could imagine him shrugging. "So? It's not unusual for him to be in a good mood, is it?"

"He was  _skipping_. And he practically ran out the door to Market Chipping."

Sophie glanced swiftly at Howl to see his eyes widen and then a grin appear. "I see. So Michael's finally found himself a girlfriend."

"Seems that way."

Howl then turned his attention towards Sophie, who quickly looked away. "Good morning, Sophie," he said smoothly.

_Oh, I hate him! How on earth can he be so calm and collected after telling me last night... GAH! He is so irritating! And he expects me to be unfazed by...by..._

_But wait. I SHOULD be unfazed by it. After all, he said he MIGHT fall in love with me. He hasn't done so yet. And I don't have feelings towards him, so I shouldn't care..._

_This is the first time anyone's ever said anything like that to me, though. I've always been the eldest, the one who would fail, even at love. No man has ever given me a second glance. But here's Howl, saying..._

_He was teasing me last night. That's the only explanation as for why he's acting so calm. So..._

Sophie kept thinking about this circumstance she suddenly found herself in, and thought about why she couldn't fully complete a thought. So deep was she in thought that she only heard Howl say "Sophie?" the second time around.

Sophie brought herself back to the real world. "What?" she muttered, mentally wincing that she couldn't be so calm about this whole thing.

"I asked you what we were having for breakfast."

Just a joke, just a joke, just a joke...

"Eggs and bacon."

"Sounds good."

"Mmm."

"Will you come outside with me for a second?"

Sophie looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. Her insides tightened up in anxiety as she nodded.

Calcifer groaned. "Aw, come on! How am I supposed to hear what's going on if you guys go outside?"

"That's the point, Calcifer," Howl said with a smirk. He grabbed Sophie's hand before she could protest and took her to the door, spinning the knob around and taking outside.

They were standing outside the moving castle, the sun momentarily blinding Sophie. She tried unsuccessfully to take her hand from Howl's, but he just held her hand tighter as he shut the door. Sophie tried again, getting annoyed. The more he held her hand like this, the more she would think how warm his hand was, and how she didn't mind it as much as one would have thought.

"I-" Howl began, once he was sure Calcifer couldn't listen in.

Sophie cut him off. "That was a terrible joke you pulled last night," she said bluntly.

Howl blinked. "Joke? You think what I said last night was a joke?"

"Of course. What else would it be?" She crossed her arms as she glared at him.

He laughed. Laughed! "My dear Sophie, I was quite serious. I washed the dishes for you yesterday, remember? Isn't that proof enough?"

"We have an agreement," Sophie snapped. Being angry was better than acting like an embarrassed little mouse.

"I promised I wouldn't do anything. And I won't do anything indecent. I'm not that terrible."

Sophie blushed at his words.

"So you see," he continued, "I'm not breaking my promise. There. Do you feel better now?" He smiled at her, trying to win her over, no doubt.

"You're-you are-ugh!" Sophie cried, throwing her hands up in the air.

Howl grinned. "You are different than the other girls I've met. But I'm sure you'll come around eventually. I think by tomorrow I may just be completely in love with you, So-"

The slap left a satisfyingly loud sound. "Sophie," Howl whined as he rubbed his cheek, "that's the second time in less than twenty-four hours!"

"You're disgusting!"

Howl blinked, snapping out of his dramatics. Sophie stood before him, her eyes welled up with tears-from anger or embarrassment or whatever, Howl had no idea. But he hated seeing girls cry. Especially when they cry after he breaks up with them. It always led to ackward moments.

Sophie continued, trembling with emotion. "You just decide to fall for any girl, then you break their heart after you're done toying with them! It's cruel, and horrible, and you're conceited enough to think that whoever you set your sights on will fall head-over-heels in love with you when you tell them you 'love' them! Well, I'm not going to! And may God help the next girl you decide to pursue!" She stormed into the castle, leaving Howl speechless.

He stood there for a few moments, then struggled to regain his composure. What he was feeling right now...wasn't what he felt with the other girls he fell for. So he couldn't love Sophie. But then, it wasn't brotherly affection, and it was more than friendship...what was it? What was it about Sophie Hatter that made him feel so...so...strange?

He shook his head. He had to go. He would be late for his meeting with the king. He could wonder about this later.

Howl said the words to transport himself to Kingsbury. For the next few hours, Sophie's face, angry yet beautiful, would stay in his mind.

* * *

"Geez, Sophie, be careful!" Calcifer yelled, narrowly dodging some water that spilled from the tin she had set down roughly.

"Sorry," Sophie grumbled, angrily scrubbing the floor. She would have to take out the rest of her anger out on the small amount of dirt that had appeared since she had last cleaned. And it would be good to have something to do. If she didn't have anything to do, she would have to think about her actions and regret how she yelled at Howl. Maybe what she said was true, but she didn't have to yell at him about it, did she?

Grr...cleaning wasn't helping whatsoever. It might keep her hands occupied, but her mind could still wander. "I need to go out. Then I can get my mind off of all this," she said to herself.

Calcifer, meanwhile, watched this with great amusement, as well as a bit of sympathy for Sophie. She was too good to be around someone like Howl. "Go ahead and enjoy yourself in one of the towns. The castle won't get filthy again after only a few years," he told her with a grin.

Sophie smiled at him. "Alright. Well, I'll see you in a while, Calcifer." She put her cleaning supplies away, then fixed her hair so she looked presentable.

She could go to Porthaven, her original destination. She certainly couldn't go to Market Chipping. What if she ran into Fanny or Mr. Collins or one of her sisters? They would try to get her to go home. She couldn't see them so soon; she would have to wait a while.

Kingsbury was an option...wait, no, she couldn't go there. Howl was there. So much for that idea.

Sophie went to the door and saw the black blob. It roused her curiousity.  _Curiousity killed the cat_ , she reminded herself, but it was no use. She felt herself giving into her curiousity. "Just a peek..." she told herself, turning the knob.

Calcifer watched in silence.  _This should be interesting,_ he thought.

The door opened, and Sophie saw pitch-black darkness. She shivered. "It feels farther than the moon!" She went to close the door.

Before she could, however, she stepped on a spot she forgot to dry after cleaning.

She seemed to fall forward in slow motion. Sophie had enough time to flail about slightly, but it didn't help. She faintly heard Calcifer shout, "Hey! Sophie!" Then she was gone.

The door slowly creaked to a close, hiding the darkness.


	7. In Which Sophie is Quite Lost

The darkness didn't last very long. It must have only been an inch thick, which was a relief to the poor distraught cleaning lady. She landed on her face, feeling like she broke her nose. Sophie bit back a word she learned from Martha.

She finally snapped out of her shock and slowly stood, feeling her nose to make sure it wasn't bleeding. "No monsters have attacked me, so that's a good sign," she murmured drily to herself. She looked around, wondering where the black nothingness had taken her. It seemed like a normal enough place-the sky was blue, the grass green. There were even homes, although they were of peculiar architecture. The street was not made of dirt, but it was completely black.

Sophie looked back and saw that the blackness had vanished. Upon further analysis, she found herself on a garden path in front of a yellow house.

At best, this was not good. With the black portal gone, she couldn't get back to the castle. Just as this thought was sinking in, a rumbling sound entered Sophie's ears. She whirled towards the strange street and gazed in fear as she saw something shiny with darkened windows move with frightening speed down the hard path. Sophie let out an "eep!" and backed away from the thing, although she was already a sufficient distance from the street. The horseless carriage was gone soon enough, anyway. At least, she thought it was a horseless carriage.  _Maybe Howl was telling the truth! Maybe that was really one of the monsters!_ she cried in her mind.

Sophie's attention was distracted from the carriage/monster when she heard a child's giggle from behind. Whirling around and eager to see any sign of human life, Sophie saw a little girl skipping from around the side of the house with a woman walking behind her.

"Mari! Be careful not to soil your dress!" the woman, whom Sophie presumed to be Mari's mother, told the child in an annoyed voice. "And go inside and tell Neil to hurry up and get out here so we can go to town. That boy spends too much time in front of those blasted video games your uncle spoils him with!"

Upon seeing Sophie standing on the garden path, both Mari and her mother stopped short. "Um, hello," Sophie said awkwardly.

"Hello. What can I do for you? Wait-" the woman added without waiting for an answer, glaring, "-if it's Howell you are looking for, he's not here."

"I-I'm not looking for anyone named Howell. I'm trying...well, you see..." Something in the back of her mind told her she shouldn't really mention that she came here from another world.

The little girl would have cut Sophie off regardless, seeing as she ran up to Sophie and gaped. "Wow! You're so pretty! I like your hair!" Mari cried with a big smile.

Sophie smiled back with a little blush. "Well, thank you! I like your hair, too. And you're  _much_ prettier than I am."

Mari's grin grew even larger as she whirled around and cried, "Mother! Did you hear! She says I'm prettier than she is!"

"Yes, I heard, Mari. Now run along now and get your brother!" The girl sighed, threw a quick smile at Sophie, then ran up the porch steps to enter the yellow house named Rivendell. The woman turned back to Sophie with a look that made the Ingorian girl feel both annoyed and intimidated. "You said you were here because...?"

"Well, I'm rather lost," replied Sophie quite honestly.

The woman frowned more. "So you're a tourist? That would explain it. Although most tourists wouldn't dress like  _that_ ," she said, eyeing Sophie's clothes.

Sophie blushed, but was unsure of what to say. This woman before her certainly dressed much differently than herself. Luckily, Sophie didn't have to confess she had no clue what a tourist was, because the woman went on talking. She seemed like the type of person who only liked the sound of her own voice, and liked to use her voice to nag.

"You were probably on your way to Knighton. Where's your car?"

"I don't-"

"You don't have a car? Didn't you rent one when you came to Wales? You must have taken a cab, then. How on earth did you get lost in the first place?"

"I-"

"Oh well. I was taking my children to Knighton anyway. You can just ride with us. You're just a kid yourself, anyway, so I think it should be okay."

"Ac-"

"Honestly, where are those two? They always dawdle when we're going to leave somewhere. Here they are. Neil, what took you so long?" the woman demanded.

Mari had appeared with Neil, who looked like he would much rather play with those video games his mother had mentioned earlier (what were video games, anyway?). He shrugged in reply to his mother, saying, "I was playing video games. I almost beat Leve-"

"That's nice, Neil. This is," gesturing to Sophie, then pausing. "I'm sorry. What did you say your name was?" the woman asked Sophie.

"I'm Sophie Hatter."

"I'm Megan Parry. These are my children, Neil and Mari. My husband Gareth is working right now," replied Megan. To her children, she said, "Sophie will be riding with us. Now, everybody into the car." She led the way as Neil, Mari, and Sophie followed, the latter wondering what on earth a car was.

Neil walked with Sophie, and asked her where she was from (she had to lie here, saying she was from all over), if she was going out with his uncle Howell, etc. Sophie still had no idea who this Howell person was, but he seemed like he was the type of person to court any girl at any time.  _That sounds familiar,_ Sophie thought wryly, thinking about Howl. She wasn't quite so angry anymore; if she saw Howl in this foreign place, she would most likely hug him in relief than yell at him.

Neil continued to ask her questions, once they arrived at a small building apparently called a "garage". He seemed to really like her. Sophie, in turn, asked him what grade he was in, if he really liked video games (she already knew the answer to this, but Neil got really talkative about this subject), and some other questions. She caught Neil looking at her a few times with his face red, then he hurriedly looked away once their eyes made contact. As Megan pulled up the garage door, Sophie thought about her own situation, starting to tune Neil's explanation about his video game out.

Sophie didn't really want to leave Rivendell, since she had a feeling the door to the castle was still around the house somewhere, but she didn't want to risk seeming suspicious, either. The last thing Sophie wanted was to have Megan angry at her. She seemed like the type of person who would be vicious when angry.

Although Megan's wrath didn't seem too bad once Sophie realized what a car was.

* * *

Michael arrived home whistling. "Hello, Calcifer," he greeted dreamily.

Calcifer's serious tone threw him off. "Michael, there's a problem."

The boy frowned. "What's the problem? And where's Sophie?" When he noticed Calcifer's meaningful look, he understood. "Did she leave? I was wondering how long she could stand living with Howl, but..."

"She didn't leave on her own. She fell through the door."

"So?"

"When the black blob was down."

Michael froze. No one was allowed to use that portal except for Howl.  _No one_.

"And she isn't back yet?" Michael asked, his voice filled with curiosity on where the portal led to, as well as anxiety for Sophie.

"Does it look it?" Calcifer snapped. "I think only Howl is able to find the castle door on the other side."

"Then how's Sophie going to get back to Ingary?"

"I don't think she'll be able to get back on her own. We'll have to tell Howl once he gets back."

Michael shuddered. "He'll get really mad, you know. You know how he gets when he's really angry."

Calcifer sighed. "I know. But it's better than Sophie being stuck in who-knows-where."  _Besides,_ he thought,  _if she's gone, who'll break the contract?_

* * *

Sophie bit her lip to keep from screaming as the car went over and down hills. It really was a horseless carriage, but it was still terrifying.

"Are you alright?" Megan had asked her earlier when Sophie first got in. "Your face is pale."

"I'm fine," Sophie replied, struggling to keep her tone even.  _Maybe once we ride for a few minutes, I'll get used to it._

She hadn't.

"So, Sophie. Do you have a boyfriend?" asked Neil, clearly attempting to keep his tone nonchalant but coming across as quite anxious.

"Neil," Megan said in a meaningful tone. "You're thirteen."

"How old are you, Sophie?" Neil asked, ignoring Megan's tone completely.

"Eighteen," replied Sophie, turning around to look at Neil. This was nice, since she wouldn't have to look through the large window that had been in front of her.

Neil's eyes got large. "Wow, really?"

"Neil, don't even think about it!" Megan's voice cut in.

Sophie faced forward again, keeping her eyes on her fingers that clutched her dress so she wouldn't look and see how fast they were moving and how steep the hills were.

* * *

They arrived in Knighton, a bustling town that consisted of people not dressed at all like Sophie (with the exception of some elderly women who had long dresses on), more of those terrible cars, and many flashing lights.

Megan parked at the side of the street, then told Sophie cheerfully, "Well, this is your stop! Take care!"

"T-thank you. It was nice meeting you. You too, Neil, Mari," Sophie said, hastily getting out of the car and breathing a sigh of relief to be standing safely on the ground.

"Bye, Sophie!" Mari cried, giving Sophie a hug. Sophie hugged back, smiling to herself. Mari was such a sweet girl.

"It was _really_ nice meeting you, Sophie," Neil said in almost a dreamy tone. Sophie just smiled awkwardly in return. Neil seemed like a good boy, but it seemed almost as if he was developing feelings for her.

But of course that was impossible.

"Thank you again!" Sophie called as the family walked away. Neil walked backwards with his eyes on Sophie until his mother bopped him on the head and whispered harshly in his ear. Sophie just shrugged and walked away.

Then she realized she had no idea where she was walking to.

Sophie spotted a bench and sat there, contemplating. How on earth had she ended up here? Only days before she had simply been an engaged woman working at her family's hat shop. Then she became the cleaning lady for Horrible Howl, who claimed he was about to fall for her. After that, she fell through a magic door into a foreign world.

Plenty of proof that the eldest should never seek her fortune.

Sophie sighed, then gazed up at the sky. A low rumble-this time, not from a car-sounded, and Sophie blushed, although no one had heard. "I suppose I need some food. But will they take my money?" she said aloud.

Getting up, she walked around, hoping to find somewhere that sold food. Luckily, it wasn't hard to find. Almost every corner had restaurants. She spotted a stand that would hopefully be cheap. Pretending to look at the menu, she walked to the front and watched out of the corner of her eye as the person next to her paid. Sophie frowned.  _Drat! I don't have money like that!_

She turned and walked slowly away. "I'm hungry, I'm lost, I can't buy anything... This is all my fault! I never should have broken the engagement with Mr. Collins! I  _knew_  I shouldn't live with Howl, but  _nooo_ , I wanted to seek my bloody fortune!" Her voice gradually increased as she paced in a circle, drawing the attention of several passersby. "I hate being the eldest! If, say,  _Lettie_ had been born first, this wouldn't be my problem! Wait, no, that's not fair to Lettie. I shouldn't put my problems on her. But this  _is_ all my fault! And why did I agree to leave that Rivendell place?! The portal might be there! No one's going to be able to rescue me either!

"Oh my gosh," Sophie gasped, as a new fear entered her mind. "I could die here! I have no food! I have no where to stay! I'll die, and no one will know! Fanny, Martha, and Lettie will never know what happened to me! Then there's poor Calcifer, being stuck in that contract! Michael will live in a home that will be covered in dust and will probably sufficate from it! And Howl...well, who cares about Howl? I'll die alone, and I'll just be forgotten, and I want to go home, for goodness's sake!" she yelled, tears welling up in her eyes. This was way too much to handle! She was supposed to be very sensible, but how could anyone be sensible at a time like this?

The passersby looked around, searching for a video camera in case this was part of a t.v. show. There were none. They looked at each other, and one said, "Are you okay?"

"No," groaned Sophie, sitting on the ground. She buried her face in her hands. Who cares if she made a spectical of herself? She didn't know any of these people and probably would never see them again!

"Please, everyone, leave the poor girl alone. Go on, shoo," a woman's voice said. It sounded musical, but it had a commanding tone to it.

Sophie raised her hand and saw the people move away, save two women. Everything about the woman who spoke looked gaudy. She turned to face Sophie with a smile. It seemed kindly meant, but something about it sent shivers down Sophie's spine. And the woman's face! She looked young, especially with her brown locks, but at the same time...

The other woman had a very serious look. She was quite beautiful, and looked much younger than the other.

"How do you do? My name is Miss Angorian," said the second woman, never cracking a smile.

 _This is exactly the type of person Howl would fall for. If he saw Miss Angorian, he would turn his affections for me to her! Then I'd be safe from him,_ Sophie thought. Somehow, this sent a little pain through her chest.

"And I am Miss Williams. Pleased to make your acquaintance," said the first woman, the one who had spoken.

"Pleased to meet you both," Sophie said with a sniff. "I'm Sophie Hatter."

Miss Williams clucked her tongue. "Poor dear. We are actually a little lost ourselves. We're looking for someone named Howl. Have you seen him? He also goes by Howell Jenkins."

Sophie's heart stopped. No, it couldn't be the same person. It was impossible. "I know someone by the name of Howl," Sophie replied slowly. "But he's not from around here."

Miss Williams smiled. Again, shivers ran down Sophie's back. "You are from Ingary?"

Sophie resisted the urge to cry, "Yes! Do you know how I can get home?" Something about this woman, and possibly the other woman too, was not right. "Ingary? Where is that?"

Miss Angorian's eyes seemed to flash. "Are you quite honest?"

"Are you suggesting I am lying?" retorted Sophie. What did these women want with Howl?

"Of course not, Miss Hatter. Here, take this. You still have some tears in your eyes," said Miss Williams, handing Sophie a handkerchief.

Once Sophie's hand came in contact with it, a little shock ran through her fingers. Surprised, she dropped it onto the filthy ground. "I-I'm so-"

"We ought to be going. If you do meet Howl,  _please_ give our regards to him. Do tell him we will see him soon," Miss Angorian said in a throbbing voice which irked Sophie.

"Of course," Sophie managed with a crooked smile.

"Ta-ta, Miss Hatter." Then they were gone.

Sophie sighed with relief. They were gone. Thank goodness! She looked at the crumpled cloth lying on the ground. There was something peculiar about that little handkerchief...

She stood, walked away, then looked back again.

The handkerchief had vanished.

* * *

All day, Sophie walked around Knighton, praying to find somewhere that sold food for free. No such luck. The sun had just set, but quite a bit of people were still venturing around town, particularly people Sophie probably shouldn't talk to.

"I'm so hungry..." she muttered. She walked aimlessly, holding her stomach, and caught herself before she walked into an alley.  _Oh, no. It's dark, there's rather frightening people walking about, and you know what happened last time you went in an alley!_

She turned away, walking back to where the light was. Sophie heard laughter coming from the dark alley, the type of laughter she had heard from some men who had been drinking. Immediately, Sophie's senses went on overdrive, and she walked a little faster away from the forbidding alley.

"Hey!" A large hand grabbed Sophie's shoulder. She whirled around to see eight men looking a few years older than herself. The one who had hold of her shoulder grinned in a disgusting and drunken way. His breath smelled horrible. "What's a girl like you doin' in a place like dis?" he drawled. His friends laughed and grinned at her.

 _Howl!_ she cried mentally. She didn't know why that name came to her mind, but-

"C'mon! How 'bout cha hang out wit us?" the man said in a way that made it not sound like a question.

"I have to go," she said timidly.

"Aww, don't go yet, cutie! We just wanna take ya on a date! And see how much money ya gots!" He sneered. He gripped her shoulder hard enough to make her cry out.

Then he dragged her into the alley, smacking her hard when she cried out for help.


	8. In Which Howl (Almost) Saves the Day

Howell Jenkins sighed as the sight of his home, disguised as an ordinary shop, came into view. He spent all day trying to slither out of a job the king had for him. When it finally worked, although it appeared the king would call for his services some other time, Howl had tried to avoid returning home for as long as possible. Sophie would surely make his life miserable if he didn't give her some more time to cool off.

Really, why was she so mad at him? He hadn't done anything that bad! It was ridiculous! Of course, telling Sophie this would surely make her even angrier and would probably result in her throwing a punch at him. She wasn't a very strong fighter, but nevertheless, much more of her abuse, and his perfect face would be ruined!

She really was a fiery redhead. Sophie had seemed so shy when he met her on May Day, and perhaps she usually was, but deep down she was a outspoken, stubborn woman. Howl certainly had enough women like  _that_ in his life. His own sister, for instance, and another lady he really would rather not think about. But-

"Crap!" Howl growled, using a word from his own world. It was raining on him now. Figures.  _Calcifer will have a fit when he sees me._ He picked up the pace.

When he arrived home, he threw the door open, only to realize the door hit his apprentice. "What are you doing there? You were just asking for it!" Howl said before any comment could be made. He felt rather bad, but he wouldn't apologize. Howell Jenkins  _never_ apologizes.

"Ow... I was just going out to see if I could find you. There's...sort of an emergency," Michael said uneasily, rubbing his face, which had turned red from the impact of the door.

Howl closed the door and said he'd be back-he just wanted to get a quick, warm bath before he got a cold. Michael and Calcifer tried to tell him to wait, but to no avail. When it came to a bath and a chance to enhance his good looks, Howl would not wait for anything. Besides, he didn't really believe there was a so-called "emergency"; it was probably just his apprentice struggling with his work.

He kept his word, surprisingly enough. It was a rather quick bath for him. It lasted only twenty minutes! Michael and Calcifer looked at each other in shock when he came back down, his hair still rather damp.

"So," he started, "what is this emergency you were talking about?"

"Do you notice anyone missing?" Calcifer hinted.

Howl glanced at his friend and then at his apprentice. "The evil mouse isn't here," he joked. Then the impact of the meaning hit him. "Where is she?" he demanded, suddenly very anxious.

"She went through the door with the black blob down," Calcifer told him, frowning. "She still hasn't come back yet."

Howl stared at the fire. "She hasn't? She went to Wales?" This couldn't be happening. Who knows what could happen to her there? And he had thought it would be dangerous for her to be by herself in Ingary! Imagine her being alone in his own world! There were much more evil men there than in her world!

"I'll find her." With that, he bolted out the door to the land called Wales.

That was one hour ago.

* * *

"Leave me alone!" Sophie shouted, biting a hand that came near her. "I don't have any money!"

"Ouch! She bloody bit me!" shouted the owner of the hand. "And don't lie to us, you wretch!"

The guy who had grabbed her shoulder painfully shoved her against a brick wall. She kicked him where it hurts. As he crumbled to the ground, the others ganged up on her, throwing her head roughly against the wall. The impact fazed her, making the faces before her seem to jumble together in a horrifying picture.

Then, all was quiet.

Sophie trembled as she slid to the ground, her back against the wall. She wasn't sure which was more frightening: the vicious cheers of excitement coming from the men or the dead silence. She didn't know what these people were planning to do next, but she certainly didn't want to find out.

 _I can do something,_ she thought numbly.  _I can command them to go._ But her mouth would not open. Instead, her trembling turned into violent shaking.

She was not crying. No, her fear was too consuming for her to do anything but shake. The silence lasted ages. In her heart, she knew it was not even half a minute, but it seemed like years.

Then she heard something.

A small panting sound, like someone who had just used up a great amount of strength. Or someone who was furious.

 _So they are still here_ , she thought.  _Dear God, please save me._

Were they so furious that she had no money from this world that they would kill her? Or would they just hurt her so much she'd want to die?

Footsteps.

The sound of shoes coming nearer and nearer was a cruel psychological attack. She'd rather the pain just start now than have to keep anticipating it in awful anxiety.

The footsteps stopped just before her.

She heard shaky breath coming from one of them. Wait, no; it was her own. She gulped, and continued to wait, unable to do anything.

It was only when two hands grabbed each of shoulders that she was released from her stupor. "N-no! Please, no! Leave me alone!  _Please!_ " She pushed weakly against the person, frantically trying to make him go away.

He was talking.

"-phie. Sophie! SOPHIE!" He had let go of her.

She stopped. Slowly, her shaking ceased. The person was still there, she could tell. Taking a shuddering breath, then tried to open her eyes.

She looked up, and gazed into the marble eyes that belonged to the one person she had been so excited to get away from just hours earlier.

He was glaring at her. "What the  _heck_ were you doing in Wales?! I told you never to go through the door with the black part down! Are you really that rebellious and stupid? You fool!" he shouted.

Sophie made a strange sound. "H-Ho-Howl..." Then she covered her face with her hands and cried.

Sophie hated crying. She always felt like a little child when she would cry. She hated that feeling. And this was the second time she cried today! But she just couldn't hold it back. She cried out of fear, as well as relief.

Howl sighed when she began to cry. He leaned against the wall beside her and held her to him, allowing her to sob into his shirt. He didn't blame her one bit for crying. Anyone would after that experience. How terrifying it must have been for her, an Ingarian girl who seemed to have no knowledge for the world's evil, save for his own "dangerous" reputation.

They stayed like that for a while, him rubbing her back in a comforting way and whispering in Welsh to her while she continued crying, albeit not as much as she had been before. Once Sophie managed to calm down a bit, Howl said in a half-serious, half-joking manner, "I only cast a spell to make those guys disappear and end up in the middle of Siberia, but I can probably cast something to make hungry wolves attack them, too."

"W-what's Siberia?" Sophie hiccuped, her head still buried in the front of his shirt.

"It's part of a country called Russia. It's hundreds of miles away from here."

"What's th-this place called? I know this town is called Knighton, but..."

"Wales."

She looked at him in surprise, tears still clinging to her long eyelashes. "Are we under the sea?"

Howl barked a laugh. "Of course not, my dear Sophie!"

"Oh."

Suddenly, she added, "Do you also go by the name Howell Jenkins?"

Now it was Howl's turn to look shocked. "How did you know that?" he demanded.

"I heard a woman named Megan Parry mention someone named Howell, then her son Neil said something about his uncle Howell. Oh, and these two-"

"You met my sister?"

"Yes. When I accidentally fell through the portal..." And she continued, starting with meeting the Parry family, then about the monstrous horseless carriage in which Megan had driven her to Knighton. She then talked about getting lost and being unable to buy food. She was just about to get to the two women when Howl cut her off yet again.

"Honestly, Sophie," he said with a groan. "How on earth did you fall through the portal? Unless you were snooping," he added pointedly.

"I just wanted to take a peek," she retorted. "I saw the darkness and I was about to close it when I sort of accidentally slipped," she said, her voice becoming more embarrassed as she spoke.

Howell sighed. "It figures."

A rather large growl interrupted, making Sophie's hunger known. Her face turned bright red, almost as bright as the lights on the signs outside of the alley, she imagined.

Howl laughed. "I suppose we should get you home. I'll even be kind, although you don't deserve it for snooping, and make dinner for you."

He stood and went to help Sophie to her feet, but she stumbled due to dizziness from her dratted head. The only things that kept her from collapsing were Howl's arms. "Thank you," Sophie said in an almost-whisper.

"Don't mention it."

"No, for everything. You seem to be quite a coward-"

"Hey!"

"-but you helped me anyway. Thank you," she said, looking up at him with such a smile that Howl almost felt his disconnected heart skip a beat.

He looked away, slightly embarrassed for the first time in a long time. "It's easy to whisk ordinary humans to other lands," he grumbled. "Now come on, or I'll leave you behind."

He stopped, however, when Sophie groaned, gently touching the back of her head.

"What's wrong now?" Howl said, his voice void of the concern he felt.

"It's nothing."

"Sophie," he said in a threatening tone.

She sighed. "Fine. One of those scoundrals threw my head against the wall. It's probably starting to swell now."

Howl merely frowned, but his eyes looked so fierce that Sophie had to take a step back. "Are you sure you don't want me to send the wolves?"

"As wonderful as that sounds, no. Hopefully you whisking them to Siberia will be enough to teach them not to attack girls."

Howl sighed in resignation, then came over to Sophie and scooped her into his arms. Sophie, of course, threw a fit, but he ignored her, saying that if it hurt too much to walk, he'd carry her.

As soon as they entered the main street and Howell had sufficient light, he set the scowling girl down. He reached to touch her head.

"Don't! It hurts!" Sophie shouted, jumping away and glaring at him, then scowling because of the pain. Howell bit back a smile.

"Don't whine. I'm just going to see if there's a lot of blood."

Sophie visibly paled. "Please don't say that," she said. "I feel sick whenever I even  _think_ about blood."

"Just talk to keep your mind off it." Heaven knew she didn't need to be told twice.

Sophie began anxiously talking about how Neil and Mari were such sweet children, which Howl nearly laughed at. Maybe Mari was, but Neil hadn't been under the "Sweet" catagory for ages.

Brushing back some of Sophie's hair, they both gasped slightly at the touch. Both turned a bit red, then Howl resumed. He gave another quick intake of breath, this time because of the amount of blood. And from what he could tell, it was still bleeding quite a bit. He wouldn't be able to fix something like this; he'd have to take her to a hospital in his world.

"What's wrong?" Sophie asked nervously. She must have heard his gasp.

"Nothing." But his voice came out a bit high. Howell wasn't too calm around blood, either, although his queasiness was nothing compared to how Sophie would feel if she knew how bad her injury was.

"Howl?"

"Yes?"

"I don't feel very well..."

Howl walked around to see Sophie's face. She was so pale, the lights seemed to make her glow. Why hadn't he noticed how she was feeling beforehand?

"I'm going to take you to a hospital from my world, alright? The doctors there are more trained than the ones in Ingary."

"Alright..." She took a step back, putting her hand to her forehead. "I think you might need to...carry me...again..." Then she fainted.


	9. In Which Sophie Returns to Ingary and Leaves the Castle

Howl paced the waiting room, feeling very restless. Sophie had been in the hospital for what seemed like forever. Howl wondered what she would do when she woke up in a strange place with wires hooked up to her. The doctors would probably speak English, but Sophie would probably shrink up like the little mouse she could be, especially after what had happened earlier.

At this thought, Howell clenched his fists. He hadn't wanted to hurt those guys; if Sophie had seen what he wanted to do to them, she probably would have been even more terrified. So he had simply whisked them away, although working magic in his world was not something he ought to have done. He'd be scolded for that when he returned to Ingary.

But she had cried.

The Sophie he knew, although shy at first, had seemed like she could hold her own. Seeing her so terrified...

"Mr. Jenkins?"

Howl whirled around and stopped pacing. "How is-?"

The doctor held up a hand to stop him. "Your friend is just fine. She has a mild concussion, and she lost some blood, but she should recover soon."

Howl sighed with relief. Then he asked, "Is she awake? May I see her?"

"She is still sleeping, but she should wake up shortly. You may sit with her, if you'd like."

Howl nodded, then went on his way to Sophie's room. He opened the door quietly, figuring she'd need her rest, then closed it just as silently behind him and went to sit in the seat placed beside Sophie's bed.

Her long ginger hair was out of its braid for once, appearing to shine underneath the light of the lamp beside her. Her face did not show any pain, but instead showed an innocence that surprised Howl. Once again, he was grateful he had found Sophie in time before those...

Her eyes fluttered open just then, then glanced around, apparently still half-asleep. Her eyes landed on him, tearing Howl from his thoughts. "Howl?"

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he teased to hide his own conflicting emotions. "How's your head?"

"It feels like-" She paused. "Something I probably shouldn't say."

Howl laughed. "Well, it sounds like your almost back to your old self."

Sophie grinned tiredly. It was rather late, after all, and it had been a very long day. "What should I call you now?" she asked abruptly.

"What do you mean?"

"Should I call you Howell or Howl?"

Howl raised an eyebrow. "You're still thinking about that? Well, anyway, I suppose you ought to continue to call me Howl, unless we bump into my sister again. If we're in Ingary, you'd best stick to calling me Howl."

"Why do you have so many names?"

"I like to keep my privacy."

Sophie gave a light snort. "You probably just want to slither away from the girls you used to court."

"My dear Sophie!" Howl cried. "Do you really think so ill of me?"

She gave him a look that said, "Yes, I do."

"For your information, Mrs. Nose, there are some people that are after me, along with some other informations."

Sophie looked at him suspiciously. "You've been awfully honest," she said. In the short while she'd known Howl, it was obvious that he was what she would call a slither-outer and an extremely dishonest man.

He sighed pitifuly. "You would have badgered me until I told you anyway."

She snorted. She went to sit up and give him a piece of her mind mind about this new nickname she realized she had been given, but her head ached. Sophie snuggled deeper in the covers instead. "Where are we, anyway?"

"We're in a hospital in my world."

"...I see." Sophie frowned, discomforted by the sudden swell of homesickness she felt. Leaving the hat shop wasn't so bad. After all, she had moved into the moving castle, which was connected right to her hometown. But now she was in a different country, a different  _world_ even!

Feeling more alert, she noticed something stuck in her arm. Her face paled. "Um..." she said quietly, almost in a squeak.

Howl followed her line of vision and quickly said, "It's fine. It's just something to measure your pulse."

Sophie sighed, growing quite fed up with this strange world, wondering how such a tiny thing could possibly measure her pulse. Closing her eyes tightly as if the act would make the object vanish, she said, "Some ladies were looking for you."

She heard Howl mutter, "How long does it take a woman to understand that I'm not interested in her anymore?"

Sophie frowned and said in an annoyed tone, "Maybe you wouldn't have to deal with things like this if you would  _stop treating women as objects to be played with_."

Howl laughed, slithering out of answering. Sophie opened her eyes to glare at him. "And by the way," she said, "they said their names were Miss Angorian and Miss Williams. They said they were looking for you, but it didn't seem like they wanted to beg to have you back. They seemed rather frightening."

"I don't recall anyone by those names. Were they attractive?"

Sophie grudgingly replied, "Yes." Of course he would ask that. She was about to add that they seemed to know about Ingary, but Howl cut her off. Surprise, surprise. Why was it that she just couldn't seem to tell him about scarcely anything regarding those two mysterious women?

"I see. Yes, they probably are women I used to court. Anyway," he said, abruptly changing the subject, "I've kept you awake too long. You're probably exhausted."

He had the look of someone who was concerned about her, but Sophie was sure he just wanted to avoid another argument about his habit of breaking hearts.

"Alright. Goodnight." And with that, she turned over so she no longer faced him.

* * *

"The answer is no!"

It was the next afternoon, the sun shining into the hospital room so that all the "magic boxes", as Sophie liked to call them, were very evident. Sophie tried to avoid looking at her arm as she ate what Howl called ice cream. It was awfully cold (most likely why they call it  _ice_ cream) yet was quite delicious. Getting ice cream was the one good thing about hospitals. Howl had earlier explained there were many different flavors, and this was vanilla.

"Come on, Sophie," Howl whined. "Wales really isn't all that bad! So you had a bad experience yesterday. But Wales has some good qualities! You already like a dessert from this world," he said, nodding towards the ice cream cone in Sophie's hands.

Sophie snorted, but couldn't help taking another lick of her ice cream. "This is food. All food is delicious, especially when I didn't have scarcely any yesterday. But Wales is a horrible place overall. How could you bear to live here? Those... _cars_ ," she said with a shudder, "go far too fast and look like frightening monsters. And-"

"We can just walk around Knighton. No cars necessary."

"But..." Sophie licked at a drip running down the side of the cone. She tried to think of an excuse to get out of seeing more of Knighton. Walking around a place where she was attacked was not a comforting thought. But Howl seemed determined to give her a tour...why was he so set on it, anyway?

"As soon as I sign your hospital release papers, we can leave, alright?" Howl then walked out of the room, not giving Sophie any time to argue.

She sighed and finished her ice cream as she waited for him to return.

* * *

Howell was sure the Witch of the Waste was in Knighton somewhere. And if she wasn't in town  _now_ , she  _had_ been recently. When he woke up this morning, he could feel it. He could sense her magic. Howl must not have noticed it last night when he was focusing solely on Sophie. But now that Sophie was safe...

Or was she? He could tell the Witch had been near her. Had theWitch noticed Sophie was from Ingary and assumed she knew him? Sure, Sophie's clothes were different than what was common in Wales, but the Witch could not have judged she was from Ingary on that alone. Had Sophie opened her big mouth and blurted out that she was from Ingary? Howl had thought she'd have at least a bit more sense than that!

But perhaps the Witch had not done anything to Sophie. Perhaps they had merely bumped into each other on the street. Still, Howell could not help but feel something awful had happened to Sophie thanks to the Witch.

Besides the Witch coming into contact with Sophie, another discomforting thought was that the Witch had been in Wales at all. It could not have been a coincidence that the Witch just felt like traveling to another world and just so happened to stumble upon his, then decided to take a tour of Wales, his home country, and then shop in Knighton, which was rather close to Megan's place.

Howl signed the hospital release forms, flashed a smile, which completely hid his uneasy feelings, towards the rather attractive nurse who was smiling flirtatiously at him, and quickly walked back to Sophie's room. As much as he hated bringing Sophie near the Witch of the Waste again, she might be able to identify who was the Witch. Howl could possibly find her on his own, but because the Witch liked to play with her prey, she often put up a barrier so that Howl would not recognize her. Sophie had some residue magic from the Witch, so she could probably recognise the Witch. Howl had heard rumors that anyone who came in contact with the Witch of the Waste's powers could somehow recognize her. Perhaps they were true. And if Sophie could identify the Witch, Howl might be able to finish her off once and for all before the Witch could cast her curse on him.

Sophie was staring out the window when he returned. "Howl," she said, without turning around. "What's that big bird thing?"

Howl froze, then rushed to the window.  _It must be the Witch!_ he thought, his breath caught in his chest. However, when he followed Sophie's line of vision, he cracked up. "It's called a plane, my dear Sophie!" he cried once he could breathe.

"A plane? What on earth is that?"

Howl explained, and Sophie listened with utmost attentiveness, her eyes wide with amazement as they followed the airplane until it was out of sight.

Howl watched her as she stared earnestly at the sky to see if any other airplanes would appear. The pleasantly surprised smile on her face seemed to make her light up. For once, his attention wasn't drawn just to a woman's lips; he was being drawn to Sophie's  _everything_ : her heart, her soul...

And it wasn't because he was hungry, no matter what the rumors Michael had spread told.

What the heck was going on? Howell mentally kicked himself for getting too attached to the redhead beside him. It was one thing to be attracted by a woman's looks, but being attracted to Sophie in other ways? Something was wrong with this picture. Never had Howl felt like this with a woman, even before he lost his heart!

"Howl?"

The curious voice shook Howl from his thoughts, and he turned his attention back to the real world. Sophie was looking at him, her head cutely tilted a bit to the side. "What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing, Sophie. Let's go," he said, managing to keep his voice even. He took her hand.

Then dropped it as if his hand had caught on fire.

 _It can't be_ , Howl thought numbly, his face growing paler by the second as he stared at his own hand, then stared at Sophie's. A terrible jolt far stronger than what could be blamed on as static electricity had flowed from Sophie's hand to his own, and he knew it had nothing to do with Sophie's own powers. Oh, no, he knew far too well who was responsible for the shock, and what the true identity of the shock was.

Sophie had felt the jolt too. "I felt something like that the other day!" she cried. Her own face began to pale, knowing something was terribly wrong.

"It's the Witch's curse. It's caught up to me," Howl stated, although his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

"The Witch? Do you mean the Witch of the Waste?"

Snapping out of his stupor, Howl glared with his marble eyes at Sophie. "Of course I mean the Witch of the Waste! Who else would I mean?"

Ignoring his attitude, Sophie asked, "But how did she-?"

And suddenly she recalled the handkerchief she had seen vanish. And the two women who were searching for Howl. And how they knew of Ingary.

"Those women from yesterday!" Sophie gasped in a hushed tone, as though she expected the Witch to hear. Then again, she probably could cast a spell so she could hear them.

Howl looked at her, then whispered, "We can't talk freely here. Let's go back home."

Sophie nodded. She followed the pale man out of the hospital and into what she assumed was his car. She was so terrified at the thought of being in contact with the famed Witch of the Waste and so worried about Howl that she didn't hardly notice the car ride back to Megan's home. She noticed enough to make a little squeak now and then when they would go up and down the rolling hills.

But the Witch of the Waste! She had heard rumors that the Witch was on the prowl again, even though she had been banished to the Waste about fifty years ago. Sophie had even read in the paper that the Witch had threatened the king's sweet little daughter's life!

Sophie stole a glance at Howl, seeing how deathly pale he was and wondering if it was merely from the shock or if it was the curse itself, draining the life out of him. She noticed his hands, however, and decided that if he was able to grip the wheel so hard, he was still alive.

He drove into Megan's yard, and soon they were in the moving castle.

Sophie thought she should have felt very relieved to be in her own world again, but under the circumstances, she was only slightly glad to see Michael and Calcifer. The fire was lying low in the hearth, looking quite distraught. Michael greeted Sophie and Howl. "I'm so glad you're alright, Sophie! Howl told us what happened when he came home last night. Oh, and Howl, something's wrong with Calcifer. A while ago, he was his old energetic self, but now he seems really down about something."

Howl, seemingly unconcerned for Calcifer, walked over to his friend. "She caught up, old blueface."

Calcifer flickered on the logs. "I know," he replied, looking at Howl with saddened eyes. "I felt it take."

Howl flopped into a chair and Sophie fidgeted by the door, unsure as to what to do in situations like this. "Um, those two women yesterday. They knew about Ingary. I tried to tell you about that, but you kept cutting me off."

Howl let out a humorless chuckle. "Of course. The Witch would never let you off with telling me about her. If she had, I would have known how to avoid the curse. She touched you, didn't she?"

"She handed me a handkerchief. I had felt a shock and dropped it. She and the other woman walked off, as did I. But I turned around, and the handkerchief had disappeared." Sophie gasped, finally realizing what had happened. "She used me to give the curse to you!"

Again, a humorless laugh came from Howl. "It figures. They said curiosity kills the cat, but your nosiness might just kill me instead."

Sophie frowned. She knew that Howl probably didn't mean to say it to be cruel, but she really did feel awful enough without him reminding her it was her fault. It was all thanks to her that the curse was set in motion. And if she hadn't gotten so scared and angry, she wouldn't have ranted about returning to Ingary and mentioning Howl. It was all her fault. "Well," she said, trying to keep her voice from revealing the hurt she felt, "you know how I'm the eldest. I warned you before that I'm destined to fail first and worst, and it seems my misfortune is affecting you."

"Sophie," Howl groaned from near the hearth.

"In fact," she continued, ignoring him completely as she swept past him to retrieve her things from the space beneath the stairs. "I'll just take my leave of you right now. I hope you find out how to break the Witch's curse."

"Wait a second, Sophie! You're not going to leave, are you?" Calcifer asked, poking his head out from under the logs.

Sophie paused at the door. She noticed how Howl did not say a word.  _He's probably glad I'm leaving. After all, I basically delivered his curse right to him. This is exactly why the eldest should never attempt to seek her fortune. I only make mistake after mistake after mistake._

"Yes, I am," she replied quietly to Calcifer. She did not dare to look over her shoulder. It was silly how attached she had become to the castle and the inhabitants of it.

"But what about our deal?" he cried.

She sighed. "You should find someone else to help you. Not a girl like me. But...if I do find out how to help you somehow, I might come back to help you. It would just be a visit though. Good-bye, Michael, Calcifer." She paused. "Good-bye, Howl. I'm sorry," Sophie added quietly, but loud enough to be heard by Howl.

She shut the door to the castle behind her, walking down the street in Market Chipping.


	10. In Which Sophie Discovers (and Watches) More Strange Things

Sophie walked down the street, in almost a daze. She felt awful. Maybe she could figure out how to help Calcifer even away from the castle. Then again, it didn't seem like many answers had been in the castle, either.

"Sophie! Sophie Hatter!" a voice cried out, making Sophie snap out of her thoughts.

She glanced around, and saw an old classmate of hers come rushing over. "Bridget? What are you doing here?" she asked.

Bridget stared at her. "Why wouldn't I be here? I live here! The question is, where have you been!"

Sophie looked around, realizing with a start that she was in Market Chipping. "Oh my..." she started.

Bridget praddled on, saying, "Everyone's been so worried! Is it true that you ran away to escape your engagement to What's-His-Face? Some people were saying Wizard Howl stole your soul or heart too! Your family's been searching like mad trying to find you! Well, where have you been?"

Having only been half-listening, Sophie paused before answering, trying to recall what Bridget had been talking about. "Oh," she began. "I did run away. No, I did not meet Howl, and I was taking a little tour of Porthaven.. I've never been outside of Market Chipping, you know." Goodness, she had become a smooth liar. It must have come from living with a slither-outer like Howl.

"But why didn't you write?" Bridget demanded.

"I left a note," Sophie pointed out. "Now if you'll please excuse me, I'm leaving again. Would you please let my family know I'm alright and I'm searching for my fortune?" Although searching for her fortune was turning into a great misfortune indeed.

Bridget looked at Sophie, pity in her eyes. "Sophie, you know you're the eldest. It's not good for the eldest of three to search for their fortune."

Sophie bit back her tongue before she could snap at Bridget. Breathing in deeply, she replied in a restrained manner, "I know. But I'm not about to stay in that dratted hat shop any longer. Or marry Mr. Collins or anyone else, for that matter. Good day." With that, she set off again in a huff, ignoring Bridget's protests.

But really, it wasn't Bridget's fault. It was just this stupid-

Sophie came to a halt. Her breath caught in her chest, and she felt glued to the cobble street.

A very beautiful woman was approaching. Sophie knew instinctively who it was.

The Witch of the Waste.

It is impossible to say how exactly Sophie recognized the Witch. She looked completely different than when she called herself "Miss Williams". Yet Sophie knew it was the fiendish witch who had used her to deliver Howl's curse right to him. Anger bubbled up inside of her, yet she could not dare open her mouth. The Witch probably wouldn't recognize her anyway.

"Miss Hatter, how do you do?" the Witch said with a bright smile.

Several words came to mind at this moment which proper ladies were not supposed to know.

"I beg your pardon? Have we met?" Sophie asked in an innocent voice.

The Witch laughed. Unlike the stereotypical description of a witch's laugh, the Witch of the Waste's laugh was rather musical and not cackling in the slightest. "There is no need to be coy. You know precisely where we have met. I see you have delivered my present to Howl; I thank you for that."

"Howl? You mean Heartless Howl?" Sophie gasped, unwilling to give up her act. She'd rather be safe than sorry.

The Witch's eyes flashed, amusement turning into annoyance. "Miss Hatter, you may perhaps be many things, but a liar you are not."

Sophie sighed, starting to get rather annoyed by the Witch. But she knew it was over; the Witch obviously knew. "And what are you doing here?"

"This is my world just as much as it is yours-"

"I mean what are you doing in this town? What business do you have? Your curse has been safely delivered; you have no further reason to be here," Sophie spat out.

"I'm simply here to get some shopping done."

"You shop?"

"Do excuse me," the Witch told Sophie, beginning to walk away. Apparently, she was bored of Sophie.

"You-" Sophie began, but she was rudely interrupted.

Just then, a boy cried, "SOPHIE!", causing the said girl to turn around. When she turned to face the Witch again, "Miss Williams" had vanished.

"Drat it all," groaned Sophie. She turned again to the boy, who had just stopped behind her, panting. "Oh, hello, Michael," she greeted, feeling a bit awkward.

"Sophie, you have to come back to the castle!" Michael demanded once he caught his breath.

She frowned and shook her head. "I think it would be better if I didn't go back."

"No, that's not true! And besides, Howl's very upset that you're gone! He's al-" He cut himself off, listening.

Sophie stayed silent and listened too. A faint wailing sound was starting, and it seemed to be increasing in sound. "What is that?"

"Howl," Michael replied miserably. "This is precisely why you have to get back. He'll burst everyone's eardrums soon if you don't go back there! And then there's the matter of green slime..." he trailed off, partly talking to himself now.

"I beg your pardon?" But Sophie's words were left unheard, as the sound of Howl's misery increased steadily. "Oh, fine!" she shouted as she covered her ears. "I'll go, but I have no idea why he should be so upset that I'm gone!"

Michael smiled with relief, took her hand, and the two rushed off in the direction of the disguised castle. As they approached, the wailing was almost too much to bear. "Shut up already," Sophie muttered quietly, hoping that her powers would make the terrible noise stop. Of course, it didn't work. Nothing ever seemed to go Sophie's way.

Sophie flung open the door, quite fed up with Howl already. The wailing was starting to die down, as if he somehow knew Sophie was back. But in a disturbing turn of events, she found green slime dripping from him. The man himself seemed in a dazed state in the exact place where Sophie had left him. Grimacing, she ushered Michael inside and slammed the door closed.

"WOULD YOU KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY? FOR GOODNESS SAKE, STOP BEING SUCH A BABY!" she screamed, hoping to get through to Howl. He just continued to drip slime.

"Sophie, Michael, get him away from me!" Calcifer whimpered as only a fire could whimper, inching as far away from the goop as possible.

Sophie rolled up her sleeves. "This is awful," she mumbled, sliding Howl's chair away from Calcifer. Some of the goop got on her hands, and she shivered in disgust.

"Michael, clean him up. I'll clean the floors. Again."

Michael rushed to do as he was told, trying to get the slippery Howl up the steps. Sophie sighed and got to work.

* * *

Howl sat gloomily in his chair near the hearth, not responding to anything. Michael, Sophie, and Calcifer eyed him, making sure he wouldn't slime again. "What made him do this?" Sophie whispered, as if anything louder would set the wizard off again.

"He seemed really depressed that you were leaving," Michael replied thoughtfully. "He slimes when he's really upset."

Sophie scoffed at the suggestion. "I'm sure he was just upset about the curse." Despite her uncaring exterior, she felt another pang of guilt.

"Soooophieee..."

Sophie and Michael jumped, almost thinking it was a ghost. They calmed down when they realized it was just Howl. "What?"

"Are you going to stay?" he moaned.

"Why should I?"

"Sophie..."

"Would you stop whining already? Honestly!"

"You can't leave, Sophie..."

"Yes I can."

Howl seemed to be recovering a bit. "It's dangerous with the Witch knowing your association with me."

"I saw her again in Market Chipping and I was fine."

Howl jumped up, then slumped back into the chair with an exhausted moan, having overexherted himself. "What do you mean, you saw her in Market Chipping?" he demanded as fiercely as he could at the moment.

"I saw her. In Market Chipping. Is it that difficult to understand?" Sophei snapped.

"She could have killed you! Did she hurt you?" Howl asked anxiously.

"Like I said, I'm fine."

Having recovered enough of his strength, most likely through some sort of spell, he was able to slowly stand again, grabbing her slight shoulders. "You don't know how powerful she is. If I can't break this curse, even  _I_ will be completely at her mercy. You have powers, yes, but you can scarcely use them. If the Witch is in the mood, she'll kill you in a heartbeat!"

Sophie considered this. Howl added hopefully, "Besides, where else can you go? Stay here, and you'll have protection."

Sophie glared at him, hating to admit he was right. "Fine," she snapped. "But only because I'm not in the mood to face my stepmother."

A grin appeared on Howl's face. Sophie looked away, embarrassed. "Why do you care so much about what happens to me, anyway?"

His grin widened. "Like I said before, I think I might make you my next target."

Sophie decided not to dignify this with an answer.

"Ahem. Anyway, Howl, you really should get ready to head to Kingsbury. You have another appointment with the king, remember?" Michael pointed out.

Howl groaned. "I can skip a meeting."

"He's the  _king_. Who knows what he may do if you don't show up!"

"He's not a dictator, Michael. Fine, fine. Just give me a few minutes."

Sophie, feeling very uncomfortable from Howl's comment earlier, tried to think about other things. "I'm surprised you don't have anything from your world here, Howl. You used to live there, after all."

"Oh, I have some things. A television set, a DVD player, DVDs for said player, etc." He began groaning as he walked up the stairs, although he received no pity from the party. "If you finally decide you've cleaned enough, I'll set it up for you so you don't get bored." He vanished from sight.

* * *

Having been absent for several hours, Howl returned home, setting up some spells to confuse the Witch to be on the safe side. How he detested those meetings with the king! Constantly trying to pin him down to do this and that...

 _Well_ , he thought,  _I would be decidedly more upset if Sophie hadn't decided to stay._ Howl felt his depression lift as he pictured his ginger-haired beauty, who was either still cleaning like her life depended on it or enraptured by the technology from his world.

As he reached for the doorknob, he was startled to sense subtle magic at work inside. If Michael had been working on something, his powers would be much more noticeable.

Quickly walking in and slamming the door behind him, his alarm faded as he saw the source of the power.

Apparently, his second prediction had been correct. There Sophie sat, using a chair from the table, staring at the television Howl had earlier brought downstairs. He had configured all electrically-run items from his world to run instead on magic, therefore a small injection of magic would leave it working for days.

Sophie was taking full advantage of this feature, as it appeared that she had not moved since Howl had left hours ago. He had conjured some chick-flick movies for her to watch, and he now saw two piles on the floor: One, he decided, was the DVDS she had watched (which he found rather high) and the other (much lower) pile was presumably those she had yet to view. He glanced at the screen, which portrayed Rose holding onto a dead Jack's hand, whispering, "I won't let go."

At this, Sophie, whose shoulders were shaking, whispered, "Tissue, come here", and so it did. Wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, she deposited it on the floor in a very un-Sophielike manner. Judging by the floor, she had been conjuring tissues ever since he left.

He heard a sniffle in the corner of the room and saw Michael, papers spread out before him with only a hint of any writing, eyes red from trying unsuccessfully not to cry as well. Calcifer, meanwhile, struggled to watch the telly by leaning out. His eyes held little, but still some, compassion for the characters. "Be a man, Michael," he said, his voice cracking a bit more than usual. Apparently, he was more affected by the movie than his expression suggested.

"I'm not crying," Michael replied unconvincingly.

"I'm certainly glad I'm not a man; I can cry freely," Sophie whimpered.

Howl gazed at this scene for a few more moments, finding the three comical and pitiful and Sophie adorable. After some time, he then grew considerably bored, able to remain ignored for only a small amount of time. "Well, what a happy homecoming this is," Howl said loudly.

All three started, turned to face Howl slowly, and the two which were able to shed tears quickly did away with them, certain they would be mocked by Howl.

"No, no," said he, "don't bother trying to put on a brave face for me."

"Shut up," Sophie hissed, although it was still more of a whimper.

He smiled, and felt all his troubles with the king fade away. " _Titanic_ , huh? I hadn't realized I picked such dramatic chick-flicks."

"What are chick-flicks?" she asked.

"Never mind. Anyway," he began as he strode over to the stack of DVDs. " _A Walk to Remember_ ,  _P.S. I Love You_ ,  _The Notebook_... Could I have picked any more girly movies?"

"They're not girly! Anyone can enjoy them. They have beautiful storylines!" Sophie protested adamantly, much to the silent agreement of Michael and Calcifer.

Howl chuckled at her response. "Whatever you say, my dear Sophie." He pulled up a chair and sat beside her. At this, Sophie moved to put a little more distance between them.

They watched the ending of the film, Sophie and Michael occasionally sniffing but not daring to cry again in front of Howl, who momentarily wondered if he would have cried a bit if he had a heart. Reflecting on how he was prior to his meeting Calcifer, he remembered he had only laughed when Megan watched one of her sappy films before she married.

As soon as  _Titanic_ ended, Sophie said, "I must say, this magic box is rather incredible, Howl."

"You mean a television."

"Right."

Michael cleared his throat. "So, um, are we going to watch another play?"

"You mean a movie."

"Sure."

Howl sighed dramaticaly. "If you want more drama, just listen to how my meeting with the king went!" he cried with a wave of his arms, feeling neglected again.

Calcifer piped up, saying, "Let's just listen to him whine. We won't have any peace until he does."

Howl shot a look towards the hearth. " _Anyway_ , the king has decided to make me a Royal Wizard."

His apprentice, momentarily forgetting who he was speaking to, said, "This is great!" After Howl gaped at him, Michael came to his senses and meekly added, "Or not."

Howl nodded and resumed pathetically exclaiming, "He respects me so much that he can't help promoting me! Why can't he see what a vile person I am?"

Sophie watched his dramatics in amazement. "Why is this so bad? One would think you'd  _like_ to be promoted."

He groaned. "Sophie, my good woman, do you not understand  _anything_ after living here for...how long has it been? Anyway, you should know me better by now!"

She thought. "Is it because he's pinning you down to more responsibility, and you can't just respectfully decline a job?"

"Exactly! What I need is for someone to explain to the king just how terrible I am..." Howl trailed off. He didn't bother looking at Calcifer, but turned immediately toward Michael. He then waved his hand and muttered something along the lines of, "As if  _he_ could be spiteful." His gaze focused in on Sophie, who was becoming decidedly suspicious. "Sophie it is! You can go to the palace tomorrow and blacken my name!"

"Oh, no. I don't see why I should do anything for you!"

He smiled charmingly. "But you will do this one, small thing for me, won't you?"

Sophie knew she had no romantic interest in Howl whatsoever, yet she  _was_ female, and seeing a handsome man smiling in such a way-and specifically at  _her_ -had mullified her. "Oh, fine," she huffed.

Howl only grinned at her triumphantly.


	11. Which Contains the First of Two Frightening Visits

Howl proceeded to give Sophie a thorough, meticulously detailed description on who she was supposed to be (saying she was merely a cleaning lady for Howl just wouldn't do) and what she was supposed to say. After a while, however, Sophie's head began to whirl and she found it extremely difficult to listen to a single word he was saying. Overloaded with details, she became alarmed when Howl dismissed himself to bed with a yawn and she found she could not remember a single thing.

 _Ah, well,_ she thought when she had bidden Calcifer a good night.  _I'll just ask him in the morning._

Most unfortunately, Howl was not available in the morning. Calcifer told her that he had gone to see an old tutor of his. Sophie sighed and shrugged and proceeded cleaning, because, as much as she wanted to watch more of those play-movie things, this was all she was here for, anyway.

Or so she told herself. She refused to think that it was because she was growing increasingly fond of the inhabitants of the moving castle.

Howl was not seen for the rest of the day, and it was not until everyone had given up expecting him that night and gone to bed when he returned.

Awakened by sound of a door shutting and the sound of shoes against the floor, Sophie yawned and turned over on her side, planning to go back to the land of dreams.

"Better late than never," Calcifer said in his crackly voice.

 _Oh, so Howl's back_ , the young lady thought sleepily, drifting off again.

Howl's voice replied back, in a more hushed tone, "Yes, well, I've been busy."

"Let me guess. You went to the palace to tell whoever it is that works for the king that Sophie was coming after you went to your old tutor, and then you went out and got drunk and didn't wake up sober until just minutes ago."

Howl laughed softly. "You know me well."

Calcifer snorted. "That makes sense. We share the same heart, after all."

The creaking of a chair could be heard. Sophie found herself following the conversation despite her wish to get back to sleep. There was something about the last comment which was intriguing, although her tired mind was much too exhausted to consider it very long.

"In any case, keep your voice down. You might wake up Sophie," Howl replied.

She considered letting him know he was already awake and it was all his fault, but she felt a bit sneaky by eavesdropping, and she was still not quite in her right mind, so she childishly smiled and continued listening intently despite her drooping eyelids.

"That's fine. I've been dropping hints like mad about the contract, but she never notices."

"You've been telling her about the contract?"

Calcifer's flames crackled, and Sophie could imagine that this was due to his wincing. "No, I have not," he replied.

"Yes, you have." Howl sighed. "I suppose that it's alright, though. I don't want to end up like the Witch."

"Neither do I."

There was a moment of silence. Sophie decided to stop listening and just go to sleep.

"Don't you feel a bit of guilt for bullying Sophie into going to the king?" Calcifer then asked.

Sophie's ears perked up again, naturally.

"No heart, remember?"

 _Honestly,_ Sophie thought,  _how often are they going to use that joke?_ She didn't even consider the possibility that they might not be joking.

Calcifer snorted. "It's a miracle enough that she came back. Don't you think she will definitely leave if you keep exploiting her?"

Howl muttered something which Sophie, despite all her straining to hear, could not decipher.

Calcifer spoke again, just barely raising his voice louder. "Oh, Sophiiiiiie. Howl won't answer my questioooon," he softly called.

"Shut it!" Howl then proceeded to say something which Sophie suspected was a curse in Welsh.

"Oh ho, touchy, aren't we?" Calcifer cackled, quieter this time. "You can be honest with me, you know."

"I know that," Howl snapped. "Forget it. I'm tired and I feel the beginning of a hangover coming on and I am not discussing this any further. Good night, Calcifer."

After Sophie heard his feet pound above her, evidently forgetting his warnings to Calcifer to be quiet, she decided that there was nothing of interest for her to listen to and fell asleep.

* * *

She was going to kill him, if the Witch's curse didn't get to him first.

Sophie stood the next morning trembling with anger, as Howl rudely insulted her clothing. "You can't possibly see Mrs. Penstemmon and the king in  _that_." He pointed to her gray attire. "It would be embarrassing for you  _and_ me."

He was saying this after he had rejected the way she had her hair pinned up, her lack of makeup, and so on.

Sophie had initially obliged him, feeling that he knew more about how one should look on visits with stately people. But this was ridiculous!

"I don't see why we have to visit your tutor anyway," she said sourly.

"Because," he replied with constant glances at his watch (which was apparently another item from his world), "besides giving you practice for appearing in front of the king, I want to see if she can make out what the curse on me is supposed to  _be_."

She snorted. "Some wizard you are," she sneered, "not even able to figure out what your own curse is."

Howl was starting to lose patience as well. "Well," he struggled to say in a calm voice. "It is difficult to look at yourself and analyze your own curse. Besides, this spell is very well constructed. Mrs. Penstemmon is my best bet for being able to examine the terms of the curse."

"Excuses, excuses," Sophie replied dismissively, waving her hand as if waving away his words.

Now he was  _really_ angry. "I'll have  _you_ know, Miss Nose, that I'm actually being honest right now!"

" 'Actually'? Why, this is a surprise!" Sophie was a bit surprised by how she was acting. She was actually having a bit of fun picking on him! She was infuriated, of course, and yet it was very fun to rile him up.

Michael decided to jump in. "Howl, I think Sophie looks fine," he said timidly.

"She does, but not in that."

Sophie flushed, both annoyed and embarrassed. Did he just compliment her and insult her at the same time?

"I'll be right back." With a huff, she decided that it was probably better if she just wore one of the expensive dresses Howl had purchased for her.

Minutes later, they headed out. Michael accompanied Howl and Sophie so they wouldn't murder each other, and Calcifer bid them farewell mournfully, wondering what it would be like at Mrs. Penstemmon's.

It was dreadfully hot. As the trio walked, they felt themselves become more and more uncomfortable.  _And it's even worse for me!_ Sophie thought.  _Howl and Michael don't have to wear these dratted petticoats!_

The sour mood increased tenfold in the heat, at least on Sophie's side. Howl must have cast a spell on himself, the selfish ingrate, because instead of becoming ruder, he became more amiable. Soon, not a trickle of sweat could be found on him. This contrast was sharpened by sweet Michael's irritated retorts to every lighthearted comment Howl made.

They went past several gorgeous houses, remarkable in every way. Sophie thought she had never seen such luxurious homes in her life. She now understood why Howl had been so adamant she wear something better than her regular attire.

"We're almost there!" Howl told them cheerfully, pointing towards two houses ahead. He glanced at his companions and clicked his tongue. "I can't have you two appear in Mrs. Penstemmon's home in such shape," he informed them. With a few gestures, all sweat beads had vanished. Sophie's few strands of hair, which had been left out of the bun to frame her face, no longer stuck annoyingly to her cheeks. The day now felt no hotter than an early spring morning.

"Why didn't you do that before?" Sophie demanded, her temper still in the process of cooling.

"Yeah!" Michael jumped in, although pathetically.

Howl shrugged helplessly. "I didn't realize you both were so warm! Ah, look, we're just about there! Hurry up, you two." He quickly escaped any impending argument by walking faster.

It was at that moment Sophie realized she had no idea who she was supposed to be.

She had been so wrapped up in fending off Howl's orders to adjust herself in this way or that, and she had been too preoccupied with the awful heat to recall asking Howl.

"Howl!" she squealed anxiously, hastening her steps. "Who am I supposed to be?!"

He had not heard her, as he was talking to a butler at the house. The butler let him inside, and Howl quickly waved his hand behind his back to usher the two dawdlers in.

Sophie was much too apprehensive to attend to the incredible makeup of the interior of the home. She wanted to find a moment when she could whisper to Howl her question, but no such moment arrived as he kept speaking in a familiar way with the butler.

They were led up the a grand staircase and into a large room, in which Mrs. Penstemmon sat regally. She was very old, Sophie noted. She would not have been surprised if the tutor was nearing ninety years of age. She seemed terribly frightening, although not in a Witch-of-the-Waste way

"Ah, my dear Howell," the woman greeted, regally holding out her glove-covered hand. The wizard kissed it politely. Mrs. Penstemmon's sharp and frightening eyes turned to Sophie, however, as she stood near Michael. The latter quickly abandoned her, though, as he decided to stand near the page boy.

"Traitor," she mouthed at him when she watched him retreat apologetically.

"Mrs. Penstemmon," Howl was saying, "this is my-"

The old lady cut him off. "Do come here," she told Sophie. "Have a seat." She was not impolite, but had an air which refused to be argued with. "Pardon my not standing. I'm afraid my health is rather frail at the moment."

Sophie fairly shook as she took those few steps and sat down, uncomfortably close to the teacher. Howl went to have a seat as well, but Mrs. Penstemmon waved him away. "Go outside with your pageboy. I'd like to speak with the young lady alone."

Howl glanced at Sophie and took in her horrified expression. Her eyes pleaded with him to stay, and she looked near tears.  _Of course_ , he thought dryly,  _Mrs. Penstemmon has that affect on people._  "Why?" he said instead to his old tutor. "Are you about to speak ill of me?"

"If I wanted to speak ill of you I'd keep you in the room so you'd know how you could improve," Mrs. Penstemmon retorted. "I'll send for you later."

"But what about my curse?"

"Later," Mrs. Penstemmon replied briskly, turning her attention once again to the terrified Sophie.

He glanced at the girl, who seemed as though she was turning back into the mouse he had once seen on May Day. Then, defeated, he left, disappointed that Mrs. Penstemmon was far too good at magic and would most certainly pick out any listening-in spells.

Once the door closed, Mrs. Penstemmon began the interrogation. "Who are you, child?"

"Sophie Hatter," she said, her voice wobbly.

"A friend of Howell's?"

"I...suppose?"

Mrs. Penstemmon stared unrelentingly at the poor girl. "How do you know him?"

"I..." Sophie racked her brain for some idea.  _Any_ idea. "I've been his neighbor for some time," Sophie suddenly said.  _That'll do, I suppose._

"Oh really? Which do you prefer, his hair blond or black?"

Was this some type of test? Sophie had no idea. But she had always thought his blond hair looked funny, almost fake. "Black?"

"I agree," Mrs. Penstemmon concurred with a decisive nod. "He was foolish to dye his hair."

"Indeed," Sophie replied, hoping to sound more comfortable than she felt.

"Now then, Miss Hatter," Mrs. Penstemmon began, leaning slightly towards the redhead. "I think this was enough practice, don't you?"

She blinked. "Practice for what?"

"Why, for lying to the king, of course. You have your story, and this is as intimidating as it will be. I dare say, His Majesty is far less fearsome than I," the older woman said with a brief smile.

"How did you...?"

"I'm very good at magic, my dear, and I'm not saying this out of pride. I can figure out one's intentions and plans just by looking at them. You seemed deeply concerned about not recalling whatever Howl had told you."

Sophie tried to relax, telling herself it was a good thing she did not have to worry about lying anymore to such an intimidating woman. "I'm sorry. I don't really want to lie to the king. But Howl insisted..."

Mrs. Penstemmon waved her hand dismissively, although the action was stiff and slow. "Believe me, my dear, I understand. He used to attempt to slither out of assignments I gave him all the time. But try and be smoother at fibbing, if you must lie at all."

Sophie nodded, thanking her for her help. If the king truly was less intimidating, then she would be just fine. "Thank you for allowing me to practice, but why didn't you allow Howl to stay in the room?"

"I wanted to get to know you without his commentary."

Sophie, needless to say, was surprised by this. "Really?" Why on earth did Mrs. Penstemmon want to get to know  _her_ for?

"Indeed. You are his housekeeper, correct?"

She nodded.

"I cannot agree with this arrangement," Mrs. Penstemmon declared. "A lovely young lady such as yourself cannot stay with a young man. Now, I know Howl is not the type of person to really take advantage of a situation like that. But my concern is that feelings may arise between the two of you and it would make your living situation awkward. Not to mention, the situation itself, no matter the feelings which may appear, is highly improper. You should take my advice, Miss Hatter, and leave immediately."

Sophie started. Mrs. Penstemmon had shut her eyes, and she felt able to speak a bit more freely at the moment. "Believe me, Mrs. Penstemmon," Sophie began, "I wouldn't be living in the moving castle if I could help it. I have nowhere else to go, and it's free board at the castle, save for my cleaning. Besides, I know Howl's character enough to not fall in love with him. I'd  _never_ do such a thing. And I highly doubt Howl would fall for me, despite all his talk."

Mrs. Penstemmon raised a brow without opening her eyes, but made no other move to reply on that particular subject. "Where did you live before moving into his castle? Why did you agree to live there in the first place?"

Sophie proceeded to briefly explain her situation.

"I see," replied the elderly woman when the younger ended her explanation. "I wish you luck. Make sure to avoid that Mr. Collins. I believe he could be dangerous."

Sophie stared. Had she been speaking to anyone else, she surely would have laughed. "Dangerous? Mr. Collins..." Her protests died on her lips, however, when Mrs. Penstemmon opened her eyes again, their piercing stare not merely interrupting Sophie, but severing the sentence altogether.

"I should also mention that, besides being able to decipher people's intentions, I am also prone to having suspicions which often come true."

Sophie nodded, believing Mrs. Penstemmon to be a reliable source, but still completely inept at imagining Mr. Collins as dangerous, unless one counts being out to squash any personality in his future wife as 'dangerous'.

Mrs. Penstemmon continued to stare at Sophie, which caused the latter to barely refrain from squirming in discomfort. After a few moments, the tutor nodded and leaned back, closing her eyes once again. "You may send Howl in now, Miss Hatter. It has been a pleasure conversing with you. Remember-avoid Mr. Collins. By the by, your magical ability is stupendous. Work on controlling it; you may need to easily conjure it someday. Good day, Miss Hatter."

"G-Good day." With that, Sophie shot up and stiffly walked to the door, which seemed very far away. When she was safely out of the room, she closed the door and slumped against it.  _I feel exhausted, mentally and physically._

A pageboy rushed to her side, asking if she needed assistance.

"I'm fine," Sophie replied wearily. She followed the boy slowly down the steps. When they arrived at the ground floor, Howl, who had been deep in conversation with the butler still, whipped his head round to face Sophie. His expression briefly seemed to hint at a feeling of guilt.

"Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow to see the king," he said, struggling to hide any appearance of feeling sorry for putting Sophie through such a hair-raising experience as meeting with his tutor...for the first time... _alone_. The full impact of what he had done, albeit unintentionally (how was  _he_ to know Mrs. Penstemmon would ask to speak to Sophie in private?), sunk in. He could recall how intimidated he, the cocky college student, had been upon their first meeting. He could scarcely imagine how mousy Sophie could have felt in such a scenario.

By any judge of her face, it was enough to drain her of all energy. The normally red tint (due to mad cleaning sprees or embarrassment or, more often, irritation at him) of her cheeks was gone. The pallor alarmed Howl, and he found himself wishing he had warned her ahead of time just what his old teacher was like.

Sophie sighed heavily. "No, no. My nerves are completely destroyed at this point. We may as well go today before I can get properly nervous again. Besides, if Mrs. Penstemmon is right, the king is much less stately, so I should be fine. Just hurry up and talk to her." This said, she sat down heavily in a chair next to Michael, her joints still tense.

Howl hesitated for just a moment, then quickly walked up the stairs without waiting for the butler or the pageboy.

Ducking into the room he had become so accustomed to over the years, Howl greeted Mrs. Penstemmon with his usual amiable grin. "So what did you discuss with Sophie?"

She opened her eyes and turned her piercing stare on him. "What are your intentions?" she asked immediately.

Howl's eyes widened. "Why, Mrs. Penstemmon, my intention is only to have a clean home," he informed her falsely.

He lied to her more for the sport of it than actual belief she would be fooled. His ex-tutor was most perceptive, and she now demonstrated that perceptiveness by stating, "You are lying and I don't appreciate that. Do you fancy her?"

Howl opened his mouth, ready to lie smoothly. However, a sudden memory of Sophie's fascinated face while looking at the airplanes in Wales stopped him in his tracks. He hated to think of how close he had come to losing her so shortly after that. He swallowed and finally spoke. "Not at all. Although she is quite lovely," he conceded.

"I quite like her," Mrs. Penstemmon declared. This was a shock, for she very rarely was satisfied with anything, let alone any _one_. "I think she'll do you good. Make sure you steer her clear of that Mr. Collins person, though. Miss Hatter seems to be the sort of person to easily get into trouble, and may need assistance to avoid it."

Knowing how correct her judgment was, Howl did not argue. However, he did say, "Why Collins? Will he be out to propose to her again?" The very thought made him suddenly feel very possessive.

"I'm not certain, but I think it's much more serious than an unwanted marriage proposal." The ends of her mouth seemed to twitch up slightly at this. "To keep her safe from that, you have my permission to marry her."

Howl dodged this suggestion successfully. "I'll consider that. Now, about more pressing matters..."

"Yes, your curse." Mrs. Penstemmon eyed him thoughtfully. "The Witch did a very excellent job creating this. It's quite elaborate." She peered at the curse some more. "I'd say you have until Midsummer's Day. Then, it will almost certainly ensnare you."

"And then?"

"You will be brought back to the Witch, it seems."

The thought chilled him to the bone. Howl cleared his throat several times before being able to speak. "What are the terms?"

"That I cannot say. The Witch evidently wanted to guarantee that you would be caught by her curse, because it is so clouded it's scarcely decipherable. I'm afraid that's all I can say for now. Be extremely careful. Do not go gallivanting around with girls. The Witch's magic has improved since the last time I came into contact with it, so it may be very difficult to tell who she might be."

Howl sighed. "Right." He glanced at Mrs. Penstemmon's expression and became greatly alarmed. "Are you alright?" He jumped up and took several steps towards her.

She waved him off. "I'm just tired. I'll be dying soon, so I've been working to preserve as many magical objects in my house as I can. It can be rather exhausting, especially on my old, withered body."

Howl's heart, back at the castle, sank, causing Calcifer to shift uncomfortably. "How?" Too many bad things were coming too quickly, and it was aggravating that he and the people he cared about could not merely slither out of them.

Still, he did not receive a reply, for Mrs. Penstemmon had sunk into an uncomfortable sleep.


	12. Which Contains a King, a Witch, and a Horrified Sophie

Minutes later, the threesome left the stately mansion. Sophie wearily informed the other two of what she had talked about with the old woman. "I'm not sure who I'm more frightened of: Mrs. Penstemmon or the Witch of the Waste. But she is very considerate, helping me practice before visiting the king."

Howl was quiet, which was unusual. Michael and Sophie looked at each other with concern and then back at Howl.

Michael spoke up first. "What's wrong, Howl?"

"Apparently, Mrs. Penstemmon believes she is going to die." This was spoken without any emotion.

Sophie and Michael were too stunned to say a word and struggled to keep up with Howl's quick pace. Sophie cleared her throat as her surprise faded and asked, "Does she know how?"

"Probably by old age." However, the lack of any dramatics and his serious expression made Sophie wonder if he believed Mrs. Penstemmon would die by other means than her age.

The palace could now be seen, and Sophie inhaled sharply. The sight was grand, so grand it made Mrs. Penstemmon's home look like a quaint cottage in comparison. Apprehension now swept through her as she stared in awe and terror at the palace, and she tried to believe Mrs. Penstemmon's words that the king was not nearly as regal as the tutor.

"Come on, Miss Nose," Howl said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. Leaning in, he whispered, "You'll be fine. Just keep with the story you came up with and make me out to be as horrible as possible."

"That won't be difficult," Sophie replied shortly, although it was far too strained to seem as rude as she had intended.

And then things became very worrisome indeed. Michael was stopped somewhere along the way, and then Howl too was halted while Sophie was ushered away and led to a smallish room. She was now very tired of constantly having to face horrifying situations on her own, and she was becoming very cross because of it. Why couldn't she have moral support when she needed it?

The king greeted her kindly enough, at least. "Hello, Miss Hatter. How do you do?"

The whirlwind of being led through the palace this way and that had slightly dizzied her, and she found it presently difficult to believe she was right in front of His Majesty. Sophie had pictured him in the throne room, not sitting in a normal (albeit expensive) chair at a desk. She managed a curtsy, and a rather graceful one at that, and murmured, "Your Highness," because it seemed to be the sort of thing you did for royalty, or so all the books from her childhood had led her to believe.

"Do have a seat. I believe you came to discuss Wizard Howl?"

"Y-yes."

The king was very much like an ordinary person, perhaps resembling a mere businessman. He had smiling eyes, and seemed very friendly. Sophie was very much at ease now, save for the occasional reminder that she was, in fact, speaking to the king of all Ingary.

Sophie now began her speech. "Your Majesty, I believe it would be a mistake to hire him as a Royal Wizard."

"Oh? Go on."

"Well, sire, I've known Howl for...quite a while. We lived within a short distance of each other for a good deal of time. He was always dreadful, putting off his responsibilities onto someone else, and he would slither out of everything he was supposed to do-"

The king stopped her. "If I may. You say you were a neighbor of Wizard Howl's?"

"Er, yes. And his cousin." She didn't want to just seem a random acquaintance, lest her claims of his wickedness seem strange.

"I see. And you were saying he's far from responsible?"

"Yes, sire. He's a terrible coward, also. If it means even a verbal confrontation, he tries to avoid such a thing. He'd be horrible as a Royal Wizard. Not to mention, he is a terrible baby about everything. Howl is awfully vain." Sophie tried thinking of any other faults. "He does things without thinking to satisfy his own selfishness, and he's just a vile person in general. He never does anything without thinking of himself first and foremost and takes great pleasure in concocting the most innocent expressions and acting as though he's thinking of the good of others. It's positively ridiculous. And besides, the Witch of the Waste's curse just caught up with him, so he must spend more time canceling that than spending time at the palace, I'm afraid."

The king shivered. "I can understand  _that._ My own daughter was threatened by the Witch. As the wizard is not of high social standing, he must be very powerful to even receive the Witch's curse, let alone have hope of breaking the curse."

After a few more minutes ranting about Howl's flawed character, Sophie finally gave up. Seeing she was through, the king thanked her for her input. But he was being so calm about her speech that Sophie was thrown off. And he was  _smiling_. Who would smile after such a rant?

"Your speech, Miss Hatter," the king began, "has helped me decide, and I am grateful to you. I will promote Howl to Royal Wizard."

Sophie could do nothing but stare.

"You see," he continued, "the fact that he had sent his cousin to complain about his character in order to get out of being in such a high position shows he cannot be too terribly proud, and his turning down the money I offered him shows he's not altogether greedy. There is also the fact that he believes he can break the Witch's curse, which proves he is able to conduct very high-level magic, which I had already suspected from magic he has already done for us. Of course, until he breaks the curse he needs not visit the palace; he must focus on his own troubles before he can assist with the country's."

"Oh, drat it all!" Sophie cried, finally able to find her voice. "He told me to blacken his name!"

"And so you did," the king replied, smiling. "Unfortunately, I'm quite stubborn when I make my mind up to be, and I've decided I'd like him to be one of our Royal Wizards."

Sophie saw any further conversation would be fruitless; in fact, the king very well might promote Howl even more, if that was possible.  _How could I have messed up something so easy as numbering Howl's faults?!_ she thought as she followed the pageboy dejectedly. Actually, she was so dejected that she found she was not following the pageboy at all; he must have made a turn, and she had continued straight.

"Oh, confound it!" she cried. "This is too much!"

Sophie wandered around for several minutes, feeling relieved now that she was dressed up fashionably and did not stick out like a sore thumb amongst the high-society persons chattering throughout the halls. She turned this way and that, completely lost. Her magic was being extremely stubborn and would not work, to Sophie's great annoyance. "This is horrible," she moaned. "I'm getting quite tired of continually getting lost!"

She stumbled upon one hallway which was surprisingly empty, save for one other besides herself. It was a hallway full of windows, allowing one to overlook the city of Kingsbury. The other woman in the hall was gazing out at the city, smiling rather sinisterly, and Sophie somehow knew that the woman was seeing farther than the average person could.

She also inexplicably knew that this woman was the Witch of the Waste in yet another disguise.

The Witch turned towards her, greeting her with a, "Hello, Miss Hatter."

"Hello," was all Sophie, exhausted with walking in such irritating shoes and anxiety, could muster.

"I see you paid a visit to the king."

"Yes."

"May I ask what for?" the Witch asked, her smile growing at the poor girl's shock.

"Might I ask why  _you_ are here?"

"None of your business." However, the Witch could not help but scare Sophie even more. "I'm going to see Howl's old tutor. Do you know her?"

_Mrs. Penstemmon?_ "N-no, I have not had that pleasure."

"Pity. I'm afraid she may not be very good company soon." With this, the Witch laughed and walked away, her form disappearing.

Sophie stood shaking, the meaning of the Witch's words sinking in. "Oh my...I have to find Howl!" Picking up her skirts, she was about to start darting every which way again, but knew it would be pointless. Instead she grabbed a pageboy and described Howl. "Tell him Sophie has gone to Mrs. Penstemmon's and he must go there straightaway!"

The pageboy nodded, his own face pale upon seeing Sophie's obvious agitation, and darted off.

Now, she needed to find a way out of this dratted castle. Stopping a group of elegantly-dressed women, she asked them how to leave. They all bickered about where to turn, and finally Sophie just let them argue and found another servant and was led out of the magnificent estate.

Unfortunately, then the servant excused himself and reentered the palace. There was no one else around for Sophie ask for directions to Mrs. Penstemmon's house.

"Okay, Sophie," she muttered, squinting under the hot summer sun. "You can do this. Concentrate." She breathed in deeply. "Road, I demand you show me the way to Mrs. Penstemmon's home!" This was said with no little amount of impatience, apprehension, and irritation.  _If my magic doesn't work again..._ she thought irritatedly.  _For pity's sake, Mrs. Penstemmon could be_ dead  _by now!_

Perhaps it was only the heat. Or perhaps it was Sophie's imagination. But she was certain that the bricks in the road had ever so slightly shifted in one direction rather than the other.

"Why not?" she asked herself, then took off running. Her high-heeled shoes broke, and she took them off hastily. Running with only a thin clothing to separate her feet from the scalding bricks, Sophie turned every which way, continually ordering the road to lead her in case the first time wasn't enough. Sweat dripped from her forehead, her skirts made it difficult to keep running, and she wondered just how far along the Witch was in her plans.  _Howl will be so upset if anything happens to her!_ Sophie cried in her mind, panting too heavily to voice the thought aloud. I'll  _be upset if anything happens to her!_

After feeling as though she had been running for ages, she slowly recognized the stately neighborhood and realized, to her immense relief and joy, that there was just a bit more to go before she reached Mrs. Penstemmon's home. "Thank...goodness!" she panted, managing to run just a bit faster.

_Please don't let me be too late!_

* * *

"I wonder how she's doing," Howl muttered to himself, trying to find Michael, who was probably hopelessly lost and intimidated by being in such a fantastic building. The ladies he came across naturally flirted with them (who could possibly resist  _him_?), but his thoughts continually wandered not even to Michael's location, but to the little mouse no doubt frightened, even while talking to very possibly the least-intimidating king ever to have ruled any country in any world.

 

Maybe this was a little unfair of him, shoving her into such a duty when he knew that he easily could have just said no to the king himself. But  _nooo_ , he just  _had_ to be dramatic in every way possible way.

And, drat it all, why was his conscience bothering him when he had thought he learned years ago how to shut it up?! Furthermore, it was very aggravating that it sounded like Calcifer!

He didn't care, he continually told himself, that Sophie might be a bit bothered. It was no concern of his. Not at all. Besides, he'd never cared this much about any other girl he had decided to pay attention to.  _Perhaps_ , he thought,  _it would be better to stop trying to flirt with her and put an end to this._

A few minutes passed, and the image of Sophie came unbidden to his mind once more.

This was starting to frighten cowardly Howl. Never,  _never_ , had he ever encountered a girl who continued to possess his thoughts even after he decided to give her up! What was  _wrong_ with him?!

_It's just because I live with her, that's all. And she's the only girl who ever knew about my contract with Calcifer. So that explains it!_

He refused to believe that there was any other reason.

"Howl!"

He turned and saw Michael bounding towards him. "We have to go!"

Howl replied, "Has Sophie finished up already? I would have thought she would be in there much longer, numbering all of my many faults!"

"This isn't funny, Howl." It must not have been, for Michael's boyish face was serious. "I bumped into a pageboy when I was trying to find you. He was looking very worried. He said he was looking for you, because Sophie instructed him to tell you that she was on her way to your old tutor's house and we have to get there as soon as we can!"

Howl paled slightly, then nodded. Mrs. Penstemmon's prophecy of her death came back to him, and he pulled Michael along as they ran out of the palace.

* * *

Sophie pushed past the servant who had been familiar with Howl. "Don't let anyone else in here, unless it's Howl or Michael!" she shouted back at him.

She found Mrs. Penstemmon at the very place the trio had left her. She slept peacefully, and Sophie almost cried with joy to see her breathing. "Excuse me!" she whispered sharply, touching Mrs. Penstemmon's claw-like hand.

The woman's eyes instantly shot open, her eyes piercing. Sophie, however, felt no amount of hesitation as she pulled the elder woman to her feet. "We must hide," Sophie informed her. "The Witch of the Waste's looking for you. She's going to kill you!"

Mrs. Penstemmon nodded wearily. "Yes, I know. I feel her approaching."

"Then we have to hurry!"

Mrs. Penstemmon looked at Sophie's state. Her hair was disheveled, she was barefoot, and her cheeks were flushed and wet from running so long and so hard. "Miss Hatter, you should sit down. You very well might pass out if you don't relax for a moment."

"But I can't!" Sophie wailed. "We have to hide or something! The Witch wants to kill you! I think!"

"Oh, she will kill me, you may be assured of that. But I have lived a long life, Miss Hatter. And she will only continue to come until she finds me."

"Then come to the moving castle with me! Howl will make sure you're safe!"

Mrs. Penstemmon smiled and patted Sophie's hand. "You're a good girl. You'll save him yet."

"I don't know what you're talking about, and frankly I don't care. Will you just come with me and we can go-"

"No." Mrs. Penstemmon said this with finality, and Sophie found herself letting go of the old woman. "I'm going to face her. If I can keep up my strength, I shall live, although I highly doubt I can."

"You're being a senile, stupid, stubborn old lady, now go  _hide!_ "

Mrs. Penstemmon laughed. "You will be just like me someday, I dare say. You're rather stubborn yourself. No, it's better this way. She's come to ask about Howl, no doubt. It's better that I'm one less flank Howl needs to worry about."

"That's not true! He doesn't want you to  _die_!"

"I know that, but believe me, Miss Hatter, it's better this way. I can see the future slightly more than the average magic-user can. Trust me, this is for the best."

Suddenly, Sophie found herself on the floor, invisible, feeling bound by something far more substantial than rope. Her body would not move except to allow her to breathe and to move her eyes about and to blink, and her voice would not work.

"Thank you for trying so hard, Sophie. Look after Howl for me. He really is a good boy."

And then the Witch entered the room, tall and proud and malicious. "Mrs. Penstemmon, I presume."

"The Witch of the Waste, I expect."

"Now that introductions are out of the way, I'd like you to tell me about Howl."

"Then I'm afraid you're wasting your time."

A deadly glint appeared in the Witch's eye. "Do not underestimate me, Mrs. Penstemmon. You will suffer the circumstances if you do. Now, tell me about Howl."

Sophie, although she was behind Mrs. Penstemmon, could tell the old woman had her most determined expression on. "Over my dead body."

"Very well. I shall take your word for it." The Witch smiled and proceeded to mutter several things.

Suddenly, blood rained down and barely missed Sophie.

The corpse fell to the floor.

The Witch left.

* * *

Howl and Michael ran through the open door, nearly gagging as they saw the doorman lying dead on the floor. Howl's eyes swept the room, but the residue of magic had subsided. The Witch was long gone.

They bolted to the place they had last seen Mrs. Penstemmon, hoping against hope that there would be a survivor.

They shoved the door open.

There laid Mrs. Penstemmon, her skin pierced ripped open from magic and her blood covering everything.

Michael quickly went into the corner and vomited.

Howl walked numbly over, closing the old woman's eyes.

It was there he heard the whimpering.

Looking around, he saw Sophie just out of reach of the red liquid, still lying on the floor, shaking and crying softly.


	13. In Which There is a Family Reunion

Another bottle of brandy was empty. Howl sighed.

"Calcifer!" he declared. "We're out of alcohol!"

"I'm not surprised," Calcifer hissed back. "You drank three bottles today!"

"I'm quite entitled to it, I think, given what happened earlier today. I'm in the despair of depths."

"What?"

"The depths of despair. You knew what I meant."

"Howl, why don't you put the glass down and try to comfort Sophie? She was actually  _there_ when it happened."

Howl hiccuped, then frowned, setting his glass forcefully down onto the table. "You don't understand, Calcifer," he explained. "I can't stand it when a girl cri- _hiccup_ -cries. And I think Sophie's doin' a  _lot_ of it."

Michael piped up, saying, "She's not."

"What?"

"I brought her a sandwich twenty minutes ago, and she didn't look like she was crying."

"Oh, good," Howl said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"But she did look sort of numb. That might be even worse than crying."

Howl cursed.

"There, now," Calcifer said mockingly. "You don't need to worry about any tears, so go ahead and talk to her."

"She wouldn't talk to me, but at least you could get her annoyed or  _some_ thing," Michael added.

"I don't  _want_ to! I'm terrible at comforting! I'm heartless, remember?" Howl said pointedly to Calcifer.

"Believe me, I know," the fire replied.

A swish of a curtain made the group perk up and turn to the little room under the stairs. Sophie stood there, hands on her hips, a strained, annoyed smile on her lips. "I can hear you, you know."

"Sophie!" cried Michael. "Are you alright? Here, have a seat." He hastily got up and motioned a hand towards the chair he had previously occupied.

"Oh, stop acting like I'm so fragile! I'm not about to burst into tears again, so don't you worry," she huffed. Sophie glanced at the empty bottle on the table. "Drat," she hissed.

"Oh, no," groaned Calcifer. "Please don't tell me you drink, too. We have a hard enough time dealing with  _him_." He gestured towards Howl, who was staring at Sophie (although he was having quite a hard time with it; he couldn't seem to focus).

"Normally, I don't. But I think a sip might be helpful."

Sophie sat in the chair Michael had offered, feeling very depressed. Meeting Howl's gaze for the first time, she said quietly, "I'm sorry, Howl."

Despite the drunken glaze over his marble eyes, he looked at her sharply. "You did all you could."

"No, I didn't. I...I think I really should leave the castle. Permanently. "

There was a moment of silence. Then, the three other occupants began their protests.

"What about our agreement?!" Calcifer wailed.

"You can't go, Sophie! What about that fiance of yours?! And I...sort of like having you around. And what will I tell Martha?" Michael demanded.

Howl, meanwhile, was really, truly angry now, enough so that he cast a spell to rid himself of the alcohol's influence, although it brought about a hangover that much sooner. Glaring at her, he accused, "You've become as cowardly as I am!"

Sophie stiffened, ready to fight back. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me! Some unfortunate things happen, and you're ready to go!"

"What am I supposed to do! I deliver your curse right to you, and now Mrs. Pentstemmon's dead because I didn't work hard enough! This is beyond being the eldest of three sisters-I must be cursed!"

"Stop yelling! My head hurts!"

" _You're_ yelling, too!"

"I know, and it hurts like you wouldn't believe, but I can't think of any other way of getting through to you!"

"Well, you're still not convincing me of anything!"

Now Howl's face contorted with rage, and-although Sophie suspected she was imagining it-hurt. "I'll make green slime again," he threatened in a deadly quiet voice.

"I don't care."

The two glowered at each other, one with eyes of cold steel, the other with burning fire. The opposites clashed and fought and allowed no clear victor.

However, while they both refused to back down, Sophie was starting to lose heart. She really should stay and help Calcifer and with the curse-and, blast it all, hadn't she gone through the reasoning for her stay before?-but perhaps she would help them more by leaving.

And then she registered what Michael had said.

She whirled round to face him, forgetting all about Howl, which annoyed him very much. "Michael, what did you say?"

"When?"

"Just a minute ago! What did you say about Martha!" She grabbed hold of the boy's shoulders and managed to restrain herself from shaking him.

"Well, I asked what I would tell her if you left."

"We are talking about the same Martha, aren't we? She twiddles her thumbs whenever she's telling the truth?"

"She does, doesn't she?" he laughed, fondly recalling previous conversations with the youngest Hatter girl.

Sophie's eyes widened. "Michael, are you... _fond_  of Martha?"

The pink on his cheeks was all the answer she needed.

Well! This was certainly a surprise!  _Michael's a sweet boy_ , thought Sophie;  _Martha chose well, but it's still strange to think that she has someone serious in her life. She is only fifteen._

"Sophie, would you like to come with me tomorrow to see her? She's been worried sick about you, and the only reason she avoided coming her herself is that she wanted to make sure you would be alright with seeing her."

She bit her lip. "She won't let Fanny or Mr. Collins know, will she?"

"Of course not!" Michael protested adamantly. "She's been furious with her mother for pressuring you into marrying him! And she hates that man, anyway. What was it she called him? Oh, right: 'A disgustingly boring fool who is sexist and a proud idiot.' "

"That does sound like Martha," her half-sister said with a small laugh.

"She can be so passionate," Michael agreed, his voice filled with affection.

Howl, meanwhile, had had enough with being forgotten. "Who's Martha?" he demanded.

"My half-sister," Sophie replied, then proceeded to bombard Michael with questions regarding her welfare.

"You'll see her tomorrow," Howl said huffily. How he despised being neglected! Grabbing her hand almost roughly, he pulled her towards the door. "Come on, we're leaving."

"Where?" Sophie asked, bewildered.  _Honestly,_  she thought,  _he switches from one extreme to another!_

"To Wales," he replied curtly, dragging her through the darkness and slamming the door behind him.

Michael and Calcifer stared after them. "Should I go with them before Howl does something rash?" Michael asked, although it was obvious by his tone that he'd much rather stay home. "I mean, he looks like he might get really angry, and you know how he is when he's like that. Even worse, what if he starts to create slime again?"

"In that case," Calcifer crackled in reply, "let  _that_ place deal with his tantrums. Just so long as I don't have to hear it."

Michael hesitated, then nodded. "But what about Sophie?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Oh, she'll easily make him regret annoying her."

* * *

"Howl?"

"Yes, my dear Sophie?"

She sighed; he was back to his charming self, it seemed. "Why are we here?"

"I thought a change of surroundings would do us both some good."

"Do you even remember what happened when we were here last?"

"Of course."

"You said it was dangerous here."

"I did, yes."

"And yet we're back?"

"The Witch wouldn't suspect we'd be in Wales right after Mrs. Pentstemmon's death. She'd think we'd be cowering in the castle."

"Which you want to do."

"That's beside the point. Now, first thing's first: Medication for this hangover."

Sophie glanced up at him. "Can't you get rid of it yourself?"

"I could, but I'd rather not work any unnecessary magic while the Witch is on the prowl."

Sophie hadn't had any time to consider her surroundings, so confused was she by Howl's decision to take her to Wales. But now she glanced about her, her memory of the mysterious land called Wales renewed by seeing it once again, despite the darkness which draped over the earth save for the small moon overhead. It really was quite different from her own Ingary...but perhaps that was the point of Howl taking her here, she realized. Perhaps, it was to distract her (and himself) from the detestable act committed in her native country. She could not help but become more than a bit appreciative of this-if he had, in fact, intended to be so kind, which was, in her mind, doubtful.

Before she could look about some more, a high-pitched squeal startled her. Before she knew it, her clothes had blurred to become a blouse and a scandalously short skirt. Howl's, too, had changed, displaying a baggy jacket with the words "WELSH RUGBY".

"Mari!" he then cried, holding his arms out for the small girl as she bounded up towards the two. He spun her round and round, which made her laugh.

"Uncle Howell!" she cried, her smile infectious. The two began chattering away in Welsh.

"Mari," Howl said in between bursts of the strange language, "you've met Sophie before, haven't you?" One might never have guessed what pain the noise was causing his poor head, but his niece was so sweet-and was the only member of his family who seemed to care at all about him-that he didn't have the heart to complain or tell Mari to quiet down, although she seemed to be rising in volume the more she talked. This did not, however, prevent him from wincing quite often.

Mari finally acknowledged what he had said, whipping her head around to see Sophie, who smiled and waved.

" _Sophie!_ " The girl flailed her arms about until her uncle set her back down on the ground so she could now tackle Sophie with a hug. "I thought I'd never ever see you again!"

"Hello, Mari!" laughed Sophie.

Howl, meanwhile, seemed a bit disappointed that his planned alone-time with Sophie had been interrupted.  _But_ , he mused,  _I'm glad to see Mari likes Sophie so much. My niece always was an excellent judge of character._

"Cariad, I need to go get some medicine now. How about you show Sophie all of your new toys?" Howl asked.

"But I want to show them to you, too!" Mari huffed.

"I'll see them in a moment. Sophie, make yourself at home."

Just then, Mari's mother made her appearance. "Mari, what have I told you about going outside at night?" she demanded.

"Mother, Uncle Howell's back! And so's Sophie!"

Megan fixed her eyes upon the two. "Howell! Can't you at least call before popping up out of nowhere?"

Howell laughed. "Well, actually, I hadn't planned on visiting. But since Mari seems adamant on our staying, I suppose we will. If that's alright," he added, taking note of Megan's annoyed expression.

"Actually, I-" Megan began, obviously preparing on giving a long lecture.

"Megan! How good to see you again!" Sophie cried, anxious to avoid an argument.  _Goodness_ , she thought,  _it's no wonder Howl is such an expert of slithering out of things!_ I  _want to slither out of fighting, and I barely know Megan!_

The woman now whirled on Sophie, surprise written all over her angular face. "Aren't you... Yes, you are, aren't you? I thought you said you didn't know Howell!"

"At the time, I hadn't," Sophie replied. It was the truth; she hadn't known Howl was really named Howell.

"I bumped into her in Knighton, and I was surprised that she met you. I took her out to dinner, and we've been spending time together since," Howl replied smoothly with a grin and wink in Sophie's direction.

"What nonsen-!" Sophie began to whisper with a forced grin.  _Why_ , she thought, indignant,  _did he come up with_ that  _excuse of all things?!_

However, she was cut off by Megan, who was appalled. "Sophie, let me warn you now: Find someone else. My little brother is not the sort of person you want to be around, and especially not date!"

"Mother!" Mari cried importantly and excitedly, not knowing what the grown-ups were talking about and, frankly, not caring. "Can Uncle Howell and Sophie stay for dinner?"

Sophie replied, "Well, we actually ate-"

"Very well. It would be rude of me to say no," Megan said, although it appeared she would rather ignore propriety than have her disreputable brother and his strange friend over for dinner.

They went inside, with Sophie being led by Mari to her few toys and Howl immediately searching for any medication. Megan grumbled about the inconvenience and started slamming pots and pans onto the countertop in preparation for cooking.

"And I got this one for Christmas!" Mari exclaimed, shoving a doll at Sophie.

"How nice," Sophie replied with a grin as she took in the room and the small group of toys. "Where is your brother, Mari?"

"That meanie's upstairs," the child replied in a tone which suggested Neil was not worth discussing. "He called my dolls stupid today."

"That wasn't very nice."

"He's a -censored- idiot."

Sophie gaped at the annoyed girl. She hadn't even known  _that_ word until she was fourteen! "Y-you shouldn't use such language, Mari!"

"It's okay; Father and Neil use it all the time."

Sophie was horrified. Using such language was one thing-she felt that certain situations called for it-but using it in front of an impressionable child was an entirely different matter. And young ladies in Ingary were not even supposed to know any crude words anyway!

Unsure if it was just lack of discretion or an excusable, common occurrence in this world, Sophie decided to let the matter drop. "I'll go see if your mother needs any help."

"You won't play with me?"

The heartbroken expression on sweet Mari's face was too much. "I will after dinner, alright?"

The child beamed and nodded. As Sophie left the room, Mari began busying herself to adjust her dolls for their upcoming fun-time with Sophie. She was positively thrilled; Mother never bothered with playing with her, and since Uncle Howell moved out he had hardly come to visit at all, let alone have time to play with her. Mari dearly hoped that Sophie would make Uncle Howell visit more often; they were both the nicest people she knew.

"Megan?" Sophie asked as she entered the kitchen. "Would you like any help?"

The woman froze, then relaxed. "Th-that's alright, Sophie."

However, the Ingarian woman knew unhappiness when she saw it. Sophie recognized the meal being made-luckily, there appeared to be  _some_ similarities between Ingary and Wales-and quickly pitched in. As she snuck a glance at Megan's face, she was surprised to see a woman who was obviously exhausted and depressed. This startled Sophie; she had subconsciously believed Megan had two settings: happy (to see an annoying person leave) and irritated (to see an annoying person come to try and talk to her). The expression on Megan's face seemed terribly familiar...

It took a moment for Sophie to place where she had seen it before. When she did, she very nearly smacked her forehead in mortification at her sluggish mind. Of course; it was the very expression that had appeared on her own face several times, one which she had tried to correct as she stared at her mirror back home. It included a morose brow, a lack of sparkle in eyes, and a mouth which was prepared to give a halfhearted smile if one's friends needed reassurance that one was happy or frown to create a mask of disapproval at everyone else but oneself.

It was the very look of one resigned to a fate one did not want.

_Goodness! Who would have thought I could relate to Megan!_ Sophie thought as she stirred. Such a revelation was very strange indeed.

"Your daughter is very sweet," she said hesitantly.

"Yes, she is, but she can be so bothersome at times."

"How old is she?"

"She's five."

"I see. They can be a handful at that age."

Megan did a double take. "You don't mean to say you have your own children?!"

"No, of course I don't! I helped raise my two sisters, in a way; that's all I meant."

Howl's sister sighed with relief. "I see. But aren't you a bit... _young_ for Howell? He is twenty-seven."

_That old!_ "E-er, well-"

Thankfully, the man himself spoke from the table just then. "But it's  _love_ , Megan!"

Or, perhaps, rather than thankfully, unfortunately might be a better word choice.

"I'm sure," his sister replied sarcastically.

There were some comments such as "could you pass the pepper?" and "it smells delicious" before the two ladies whirled round to face Howl with uncharacteristic squeals.

"When did you get there?" Sophie demanded, glaring at his lazy self, who was just sitting there, doing  _nothing_ to help, while she and Megan were working hard to prepare dinner...

"Why, I came in right after you did, Sophie dear. I'm hurt that you didn't notice me! But a kiss might make me forgive you," he said innocently.

Sophie had to grip the counter so she wouldn't throw the frying pan at his head.

Luckily, Megan felt it was her duty as a big sister to walk over and whack Howl over the head.

"Hey!" he cried out in protest.

"Don't make such distasteful comments then!"

"You're just jealous because you didn't have a proper courtship like I'm giving Sophie," retorted Howl, pausing only to throw a dazzling (and infuriatingly charming) grin Sophie's way.

When Megan paused, Sophie's eyes quickly darted towards her face. Ah, yes. There was that expression again. "I had a little brother to take care of, if you recall," she growled. "I couldn't find a job to take care of us both, and Gareth came along-"

"So you married him as soon as you could," Howl finished rather bitterly. "But you should have looked harder. Isn't marriage for convenience a medieval notion, Sophie?"

"I-"

"Never mind; you wouldn't be a suitable judge, coming from your...background."

Sophie retorted, "If you don't want me to answer, don't talk to me!"

Megan, meanwhile, had gone back to preparing the meal with renewed vigor and speed, putting her irritation to good use. Sophie mentally applauded her. Megan's actions then slowed considerably, and her guest watched with amusement and interest at the scene.

"You know, Howell," Megan said kindly, her back still towards him, "Gareth is coming home early today. Just in time for dinner."

Sophie was standing close enough to Howl to hear him curse under his breath. "Well, then, we'd better go and get out of your way," he then said with his usual charm.

"Why, please don't go!" cried his sister with overdone sweetness. "You simply  _must_ stay. Gareth would be  _happy_ to see you, and I won't turn out my baby brother and his friend just because he's coming home!"

Sophie had now learned a very important lesson: Even the best slither-outer in all the worlds cannot always escape his clever sister and the looming threat of his brother-in-law.

As if on cue, the door opened, and in came a muscular man whom Sophie suspected to be Gareth. Slamming the door behind him, he yelled "I'm home!" and proceeded to rant to his wife-not checking to see if she was in earshot, just expecting it-about his various issues with work and how his boss promoted the completely wrong man and how the newly promoted employee was a complete imbecile and a son of a-

"Gareth, look who's here!" Megan cut in, a bright smile on her face as she waved her hands towards Sophie and a very ill-looking Howl (or perhaps he was only hung-over still).

Megan's husband glanced impatiently towards the guests, not hiding his surprise and irritation as he recognized his brother-in-law. "Howell," he said in a mature, but obviously strained, voice.

"Gareth," Howl greeted with the same tone.

Megan smiled at the scene, pleased with the punishment her brother would now undergo.

And Sophie smiled halfheartedly, no longer entertained and presently wondering if someone else would die before the day ended.


	14. Which Is Unlucky and Unfortunate

"What brings you here, Howell?" Gareth asked in a restrained manner. "Meg didn't tell me you would be stopping by."

"She hadn't known. I was passing by and Mari invited me in," replied Howl.

"I see," said his brother-in-law.

There was a tense silence which followed. Gareth cracked his knuckles-whether it was done out of habit or to seem threatening was unknown.

Howl stood, the pleasant look on his face plastered on. "Well, while I'm here, I may as well pick up some books I left behind when I was kick-when I left."

Megan responded perkily as she placed the food on some plates. "I'm afraid I sold them, Howell. I'm dreadfully sorry."

Howl gaped at his sister, unable to believe it. "You...sold them?  _All_ of them?"

"I thought you weren't going to come get them, so I thought I might as well sell them."

Howl was now absolutely livid, Sophie observed, finding herself step back. Despite how unpredictable his mood swings were, she somehow understood that this was him truly furious, and he would not soon forget his anger.

"You  _sold_ them, Megan! What the bloody heck is  _wrong_ with you?! You knew very well that I wanted to keep those books, and if a certain pair hadn't thrown me out on the street without any warning, I would never have had to leave them here in the first place!"

"Howell, you're overreacting," Megan said calmly, walking to the table to set down the plates. "Isn't this nice, having the whole family here for dinner? Sophie, feel free to make yourself at home. I hope this isn't too awkward for you." It seemed like she meant it, too; Megan had just realized how uncomfortable an outsider might feel with such tension in the air.

"Thank you," said Sophie, walking over to take a seat as far away from the two men as possible. "I'm fine." However, at just as she was about to pull out the chair, Howl grabbed her wrist and all but dragged her towards the chair next to his. She decided it wouldn't hurt; she couldn't help but think that if this would comfort him in some way, then she wouldn't mind.

He looked like he needed comfort, too. He looked very pale but not at all willing to back down to  _this_ opponent. It didn't help, Sophie was sure, that he had to deal with Gareth after finding his tutor's corpse. And his sister, too!

_What a long day_ , she thought in exhaustion, the events catching up with her again.  _And I met the king, too. Goodness, I met the_ king!  _And I didn't even remember at first!_

"Mari! It's time for dinner!" Megan called.

There was the sound of urgent footsteps as the little girl burst into the room. "Father!" she screamed.

"Mari, wash your hands," her father said.

"Okay," the child said, obviously disappointed that her warm welcome wasn't better received. Grabbing a nearby stool, she washed her hands at the sink and then sat at her usual spot, which was right across from Howl and Sophie. "Uncle Howell, do you want to play dolls with me and Sophie later?" Mari asked hopefully.

Gareth cut in with a, "Actually, your uncle was going to head home after dinner."

Howl smiled at Mari. "Well, if your parents don't mind, I'd be honored to play with you."

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease _please?_ " she begged her father.

Not wanting to seem like the antagonist in front of his daughter, he relented, which resulted in a large cheer from Mari.

"Indoor voices," chided Megan. "Go get your brother."

In record time, Mari bolted up the stairs, her little feet pattering on the steps. The adults listened with varying degrees of amusement as they listened to Neil call out in protest.

"It's time for dinner, poo-head!" Mari yelled loudly.

"I don't bloody  _care!_  You just shut off my game before I could save it!"

"I don't bloody care!" retorted Mari with a tone which suggested she was proud to use her brother's words against him.

"You're such a brat!"

Mari screamed, and the smiles on the faces of the company downstairs faded as they listened to clashes, bangs, and then tumbles down the stairs as Mari landed on the floor, took off under the table, and hid behind Howl.

Neil cursed loudly several times as he nearly fell on his face after reaching the floor, then hastily scanned the room for Mari. Instead of his sister, however, he spotted Sophie.

Immediately, the furious expression melted away to reveal the look of a boy in the middle of his first experience with puppy love. "Sophie!" he cried happily, walking over to the seat between she and his mother and sitting. "I didn't know you were here!"

Mari, meanwhile, felt it was safe enough to go to her chair and skittered off towards it, all the while not taking her eyes off of the scene between her brother and her (hopefully) future aunt. She had been eavesdropping on a conversation between Neil and one of his stupid friends soon after they had met Sophie, and therefore knew her older brother believed the young woman to be " _really_ pretty. And nice, too! She's got the greatest red hair. Really, you should have seen her. I'm old enough to date her, don't you think?" Mari hoped not. Being young and having little idea of what the decent age difference would be between two people who were seeing each other, she decided she'd have to take matters into her own hands and keep Sophie with Uncle Howell, or else she might not  _ever_ have an auntie.

Presently, the family had begun eating, with the silence interrupted only by Neil's attempts at conversation with Sophie. Gareth and Megan exchanged looks each time Neil began speaking, happy that he wasn't being his usual antisocial self but concerned over the motive for his desire to chat. Howl, meanwhile, was just hurt that even in Wales he was completely ignored and began sulking, although it was not nearly as obvious as it would have been had his family not been present. His mood was not improved as he half-listened to Neil's attempts at flirting with Sophie.

Finally, Neil, from lack of practice, ran out of topics to talk about, and Sophie, not knowing what Neil would be familiar with, just smiled and ate, a bit relieved that she did not have to answer questions she did not know the answers of (what on earth was a video game? And she had no idea what the different movies were that he had spoken of!).

Then, the interrogation began again, this time with Gareth being the questioner. "So, Sophie, is it? Are you Howell's new girlfriend?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, she is," replied Howl lightly, putting an arm around her and not even blinking when she kicked him underneath the table.

"You do know his reputation," said Gareth, not even glancing at Howl. "He's always been a good-for-nothing lady's man-"

"Gareth," Howl said with attempted civility. However, Megan's husband did not stop.

"-not able to stay with one girl for very long. I remember several girls came crying to our house back when he lived here-"

"Before I was rudely kicked out," grumbled Howl, evidently realizing there was no stopping Gareth when there was an opportunity to complain about him.

"-demanding to know why Howell had dumped them when he had said how much he loved them."

"I hate commitment," Howl ground out.  _For heaven's sake!_ he thought irritably.  _I wouldn't mind so much if he was saying these things in private, but in front of my niece and nephew? Thanks ever so much, Gareth, for turning my family against me!_ He refused to think that it might partially be his fault for living up to his reputation.

"I think I have heard something like that before," Sophie answered, her little respect for Howl diminishing even more. At the same time, however, she lost respect for Gareth as well. Saying such things in front of impressionable children-and Howl's own niece and nephew-was not at all appropriate. "But Howell seems to have changed," she added.

Sophie tried to ignore Howl's grateful expression, but she found herself caving and gave him an almost imperceptible smile.

"Oh really? I find that hard to believe," Gareth said.

Mari and Neil wisely stayed out of the conversation, focusing their energy on eating.

Megan, meanwhile, began to feel a tad guilty. She was, after all, still Howell's sister. She shouldn't stand for her husband's belittling of her younger brother. However, she could not bring herself to rise to Howell's defense. The last thing she needed was another argument with Gareth over Howell's behavior and how he is "an embarrassment to the family". Megan found that merely accepting Gareth's opinion as her own saved her a lot of trouble.

_This had seemed like a brilliant plan at the beginning,_ she thought.  _I didn't think Gareth would be this rude. I'm sorry I ever came up with this stupid idea._

Her discomfort, however, was evident. Sophie had glanced over at her and saw the woman was torn. "But who wouldn't be," Sophie muttered under her breath, "if caught between one's brother and husband."

"Did you say something, Sophie?" Howl asked, hoping she had said something else for his defense. He couldn't very well defend himself-he was currently balancing on a very thin rope, one which he was very familiar with due to past arguments of the same nature. If he became too defensive, Gareth would happily rise to the challenge, and that would result in a full-blown verbal fight...although it could become a physical one as well, considering Gareth's explosive temper and Howl's own anger. On the other hand, if he remained silent, his pride would continue to be hurt by this uncouth brute. Howl's vanity and cowardice clashed in an unseen battle.

"I said, I can understand why you would be upset, Howl-Howell. Michael says such things about you unwillingly, and you encourage him, but I suppose if your own family is saying such things as a means of insulting you... Well, I would find that distasteful as well."

Gareth bristled at this. "I'm afraid this is something between  _family_ , Sophie. Besides, I'm doing you a favor, letting you know of his history."

Sophie smiled coolly. "But that makes no sense-Gareth, is it? You say you're 'doing me a favor', but when I criticize it, you claim it's 'between family'. So which is it: a family argument or a token of knowledge for me? If the former, perhaps it's rude of me to do so, but I feel I should intervene and ask you to stop; it's very awkward for an outsider to watch such a scene. If the latter, I thank you, but I have no need for such information. I already know exactly what Howell's like and always give him an earful about it, but I don't think it's something we should speak about in front of children."

"Sophie," Neil said wonderingly. "You're so brave!" No one else had ever dared to speak to his father in such a bold manner! Then, with a heavy heart, he realized Sophie had used "children"-plural. It was now Neil's turn to sulk and pick at his food.

As Gareth reddened and tried to regain his dignity, both Howl and Megan shot Sophie impressed and grateful looks. The latter merely smiled indulgently at Mari and asked if she was ready to play dolls. The child quickly forgot the tension and gobbled down her food, jumped down from her chair, and put her plate by the sink, as well as Sophie and Howl's without asking if they were done. Anxious to escape, everyone but Megan and Gareth left the table.

"Neil's going to play with Mari?" Gareth asked his wife, bewildered.

Grateful for a safe topic to discuss, Megan nodded. "He likes Sophie."

"I sort of got that," Gareth said sarcastically. "Why, though, I have no idea. She's incredibly rude!"

Megan shushed him. "She might hear you!"

"Let her hear me," he grumbled, drinking some whiskey. "Maybe she'll change her attitude."

"You should change your attitude," Megan said, surprisingly quiet.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Gareth said just as quietly.

"You know very well what I mean." Emboldened by Sophie's stand, Megan looked into her husband's eyes with dignity. "Try  _thinking_  for once, Gareth. You've always been nothing but rude to Howell, even when he was only a kid. He is my brother, despite what he's like. I've tried to be a good wife and be on your side, but I need to be a good sister too."

"What the h- has gotten into you, Megan?" he demanded, his voice rising slightly.

"I mean, I'm tired. You're gone all day and when you come back..."

Gareth noticed with slight alarm her use of "come back", rather than "come home".

"...When you come back you rant about your coworkers and how terrible your life is and all that crap. Did you ever stop to think maybe  _I_ feel that way sometimes? My job never ends. At least when Howell lived here he helped out whenever he could, despite his busy social life and college work. Which is more than I can say for  _you_! You don't help out with the kids; you barely have any sort of relationship with them!"

"How did this get to be about the kids?! And don't give me that relationship crap; you know d- well that you do hardly anything but nag at them."

"Whose fault is that? If you would help more-!"

"If you would have told me earlier-!"

"I shouldn't have to tell you, you're my  _husband_!"

"And don't I regret it!"

The silence which followed was even more destructive than the heated words.

After waiting some time to see if he would apologize, or take her hand in his, or  _something_ , Megan's heart was crushed even more when he just took out a cigarette and started smoking, pointedly focusing his gaze on the oven.

Perhaps Howell was right. Perhaps she did marry Gareth just to give her brother-and herself-some sort of stable environment after Dad ran off with that other woman, and Mum died. Still, she honestly did have feelings for Gareth at the beginning which were bordering on love, and during the marriage she had fallen for him. Now, she had no idea why. Was it true love, or just the idea of being in love?

Megan needed a break. She loved her children, despite how she might act, but she hadn't had any sort of vacation from the responsibility of looking after the house and her daughter and son. She hadn't even had a dinner away since Mari had been born. And now this revelation. She was going to snap if she didn't get away for just a few days at least. She would not allow herself to think of what Gareth's words meant for their future until she could think in peace.

"By the way," Megan said quietly, recalling what sparked the argument. "Sophie is generally very polite, from what I've seen. And I'm grateful that she stood up to you. I'm glad someone was able to put you in your place. And I can tell she's smart. She won't allow Howell to walk all over her and just throw her out when he's done using her. And I think he won't this time, either. So don't insult him or her."

Donning a calm facade, she swept past Gareth and entered the living room, where the so-called couple and her own children were, acting out "Cinderella" with dolls. As she stood in the doorway, she noticed how much more relaxed Mari was when she was around Howell, and even Sophie. Megan's eyes swept to Neil, who was by Sophie's side, of course, which his mother would have comical any other day. In between bits of dialogue between the dolls, Howell would occasionally ask Neil a question about school, his friends, his video games, etc. And Megan noticed how her son practically scoffed at his attempts at communication. She could not help but wonder if this was her fault, for saying what a good-for-nothing his uncle was when Neil was within earshot.

She watched the group, unnoticed by them, until Cinderella got back her glass slipper and married the prince, thus living happily ever after. Megan numbly wondered why the creator of the story had made it end with "happily ever after". It wasn't as though such a thing existed. What if Cinderella suspected the prince of having an affair, as she had done a few years back? Had Cinderella cursed at her husband during every contraction when she was in labor?

Her thoughts were disrupted by Neil's reluctant mentioning of his schoolwork. "I have a new teacher, a Miss Angorian. I think she's a witch. She's evil like one."

Sophie dropped her doll. "Miss Angorian? What does she look like?"

Neil described her happily for Sophie. "She's always really serious. My classmates all agree she's really beautiful, but we've never once seen her crack a smile. She has a really throbbing voice-it sounds like this," he told her, mimicking his teacher.

Megan watched with great curiosity as Sophie struggled to smile. "O-oh, I think I, er, dropped something over there." She went to the other side of Howell, and Megan noticed how she almost imperceptibly muttered something to Howell. It must have been something of great importance, for Howell's eyes widened in surprise, then in anger.

His sister waited for some time to see if this strange scene would be explained at all, but all that occurred was Sophie going back to her original spot and they resumed the game, this time acting out "Snow White", at Mari's request. (Lucky for Sophie, these classic fairy tales had been told in Ingary as well, and she was very grateful for it.)

Once the prince and princess were declared by Mari to be off to live happily ever after, Megan decided to interrupt. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she heard the door close in the kitchen. Without turning around, she knew it was Gareth leaving to smoke and escape the problem he created.

Had he? Or had he only verbalized what had been silently raging between them?

"Howell, can I talk to you for a moment?" she asked.

He glanced at her, no doubt trying to discern whether she was out to start yet another fight. It took only a moment, however, to notice that the normally fiery eyes of his sister had dimmed to nothing but ice, much as his own looked like.

Going into the kitchen, she stated her proposal in its entirety.

"Hold on," asked a bewildered Howl. "You want me to take Neil and Mari home with me while you go to France?"

"Yes."

"Well, don't you have a neighbor who could watch over the kids and the house?"

"I'd rather not have Neil and Mari around Gareth."

Howl paused, then stated, "Gareth's not going with you to France."

"No."

"What happened?"

Megan shrugged. Normally, she insulted others for being so improper. Now, all self-righteousness had vanished, leaving a weary, unhappy housewife in its wake. "Things haven't been going well between us for sometime. Who knows; maybe it was from the very beginning. Tonight, though, it was acknowledged. Before I want to think too extensively on it, I want to get away. I have more than enough money saved."

"Any chance of patching it up?"

"I don't think so, Howell."

He fell silent, as did she.

Footsteps made them look up. Sophie walked in with a smile. "Neil wants to play video games. Will you join us?"

"Not right now, Sophie, my dear," Howl said with a forced smile.

Sophie, who had noticed the atmosphere just after she had finished speaking, furrowed her brow. "What's wrong? Is it something I could help with?"

"Just unhappy with my situation in life, that's all," Megan said with a dry smile.

"Well,  _that's_ something I understand," Sophie replied with a dry grin of her own.

"What do you mean?"

"My stepmother wanted me to marry the most odious man. Not only that, but I felt bound to my late father's hat shop. I worked there, you see, ever since he died a year ago. It made me a recluse, actually. Well, anyway, I left to seek my own fortune, promptly ending the engagement with Mr. Collins as well as my servitude in the shop."

"My goodness!" Megan cried. "And Howell says I'm old-fashioned! Your situation sounds positively medieval!"

Howl said, "Yes, but I rescued her from all that. The poor thing was so grate-"

"You didn't do that much," Sophie deadpanned, making Howl pout. "I would have left anyway, no matter what you did or said."

"Sophie," Howl whined.

"Oh, shush. Anyway, Megan," she said, facing the woman again. "I'm sure you just need a little vacation."

"You're happy now, then?"

"As happy as I could be," she said, giving a pointed annoyed look at Howl.

"What did I do?" he asked.

"My life's become too complicated thanks to you and the messes you get yourself into, like with a certain You-Know-Who."

Megan interrupted their squabbling. "Sophie, you have no idea how relieved I am to see that you can stand up for yourself when it comes to Howell. If he dumps you, let him have it, all right? Oh, that's right," she said, snapping her fingers, recalling her dreadful circumstances. "Howell, will you take care of Neil and Mari for me?"

Sophie blanched, knowing that if it was peculiar enough in her own world to see a moving castle, it must be completely unheard of in this one. Furthermore, how would he explain to the children where they were country-wise? Not to mention why the fire talked, or Howell could work magic, or why Sophie was living with him.

Howell paused, and Sophie and Megan both knew by his expression that he was certain he had slithered out of answering. "Fine."

Sophie quirked an eyebrow.

"Thank you, Howell! I promise I will never insult you-much. Only if you deserve it!" She kissed her brother on the cheek-openly affectionate for the first time in years-and he playfully wiped it off. "Oh, Sophie, you said you were going to play video games with Neil, right? Sorry to keep you here."

"No need to apologize," she said with a grin.

Megan told Howl to stay put; she would get some pie while they discussed when he could stop by for the kids and what the rules were that he had to enforce-she would not permit him to spoil the kids rotten. Sophie abandoned the siblings to go upstairs, where Mari and Neil were waiting anxiously with a third controller for her.

Gareth did not return inside. He smoked for a half hour, thought about lighting another cigarette, and then instead hopped into his car to drive to some unknown destination. However, the busybody neighbors which surrounded Rivendell noted that, since Gareth never left the house once arriving home from work, something must be wrong and a delightfully horrible fight must have occurred. They mourned that they had not been able to hear it, but rejoiced in the fact that they could simultaneously comfort poor Megan and get the details from her as well the next morning.

The rest of the night, with Gareth's absence and Megan's determination to focus on leaving and not why she was going abroad, passed rather peacefully, with the only raised voice being Neil's from his outbursts when Sophie beat him at video games when he hadn't even intended on letting her win. Mari was content, knowing her brother would never date someone who was better than him at Xbox. Sophie was smug, unable to resist the slight satisfaction of defeating a boy who dedicated his life to the strange interactive plays on the screen. Megan was...well, she wasn't quite sure yet, but there would be plenty of time to sort that out once she was in France.

And Howl was, despite his concern for his sister, happy, for Sophie seemed to get on with his family so well, and, a small voice in the back of his head said, if things kept going so well, they might welcome her as family too someday.


	15. In Which Sophie Finally Sees Her Sisters

It was almost noon when Sophie awoke the next day, fully refreshed and feeling as though she had returned to reality at last.

"Never," she swore to herself, "am I going to let Howl talk me into seeing any old tutors, kings, or family members. Particularly in one day."

An image of Mrs. Pentstemmon's corpse came unbidden to her mind, and she shook the memory away with a shudder. To keep such thoughts from her mind, she quickly got ready and began breakfast. She forced her mind to turn to thoughts about Neil and Mari, who would be joining them in the moving castle in one week.

"Good morning, Sophie!" Michael said happily-almost patronizingly-as he came down the steps, a bright smile on his lips.

"I'm fine," was her automatic reply. "It's bothering me more to see you try to be so chipper for my sake."

The strained smile became natural and sheepish. "Oh, alright. I didn't see how you were when you came back last night, so I wasn't sure how you would be feeling."

Sophie turned the discussion to how Michael wanted his eggs so he would not see how touched she was by his considerate gesture. It really was quite astounding how someone as sweet as Michael could stay so wonderful despite Howl's bad influence.

"So," Michael began a few minutes later, after he had swallowed a mouthful of eggs, "will you be seeing Martha today?"

Sophie glanced up in surprise, having entirely forgotten the matter. "Oh, that's right. Of course, as long as I won't be intruding on your time with her."

"Of course you wouldn't! You're her sister! I could stop in later to talk to her myself."

Due to Michael's urging and the lack of cleaning to be done (she wondered how that could be; she hadn't done any cleaning for quite a bit now), Sophie was soon on her way to Upper Folding, wondering how she should handle this turn of events. She hadn't decided how to approach Martha; what does one say to an opinionated sister when one suddenly appears after disappearing for a time? "Hello, how are you, please don't be angry that I didn't contact you?" Sophie could not help but snort at that. Martha would certainly be kind at first, making sure Sophie seemed all right, and then she would rant about how the  _least_ she could have done was write, and soon enough Martha would wear herself out; it would be quick but not pleasant at all.

Sophie didn't want to even consider her impending confrontation with Lettie, who was known to be less open-minded than Martha.

And then, since it wouldn't be fair to only see her sisters, she would have to face Fanny. Sophie still couldn't exactly think of her with affection, but she was still the closest thing she had to a mother, and deep down she knew Fanny loved all the Hatter girls and only wanted the best for them. However, Sophie could not be very forgiving yet.

The summer breeze whipped a few strands of red-gold hair from Sophie's braid as she walked the ten miles to Upper Folding, trying to hold onto the bravery she had gotten ever since she had met Howl...

She stopped, an expression of annoyance mixed with disgust on her face. Sophie hated feeling as though she owed him something. And she hated that she had become so soft when it came to him lately. He was still a womanizer, an aggravating, untidy, flirtatious person.

And a sweet uncle, a caring brother and pupil, and he was setting aside his own slither-outer nature to give his sister a few days of peace. Not to mention, he did help Sophie escape from a foul future.

Pride and guilt fought inside of her, and she set off again, although her steps were much more like stomps.

However, her conflicting emotions faded when she finally spotted Mrs. Fairfax's home. She could not help but smile at the picturesque scenery. Ever since she was a child, she had always enjoyed coming to Mrs. Fairfax's; not exactly for the company-for while the widow was as sweet as the honey she made, she could talk the ear off of visitors-but because of the lovely garden which greeted visitors as they made their way to the front porch.

"I'm heading to Market Chipping for a bit, Mrs. Fairfax!" The voice startled the smile off of Sophie's face. Her eyes turned from the gorgeous flowers and the bees happily buzzing about to the front door, which her half-sister was currently closing.

"Martha!"

The fifteen-year-old whirled round, spotted Sophie, gaped, then almost immediately snapped out of her stupor. Martha then ran to Sophie, nearly tackling the latter as she hugged her.

"Oh Sophie, it's so good to see you! But you should have written! How are you? Michael told me about you, and I wanted to see you so much, but I wasn't sure if it would be alright! ...And I'm talking too much, aren't I?" Her face was now flushed with excitement and embarrassment. She too had realized that Mrs. Fairfax's habit of commanding a conversation had rubbed off on her.

_Although,_  Sophie reasoned with a bit of sympathy for her half-sister,  _she probably isn't able to get a word in with Mrs. Fairfax, so it must build up._

"Don't worry about it," Sophie said. "And I'm sorry for not letting you know where I was. I was afraid you might tell Fanny-"

" _What?_ " Martha looked appalled, twiddling her thumbs. "I'm angry at her, too, you know! I haven't spoken to her at all since you left! She keeps trying to get me to, though. She keeps on pleading and saying," (sarcastically mimicking Fanny's voice) " 'I only meant  _well_! I thought she  _wanted_ to marry Mr. Collins! I never would have thought she'd be so against it!' "

"...She doesn't sound that bad," was the nicest thing Sophie could say in her stepmother's defense.

"Now she does! Just recently, she's gotten this annoying throbbing sound and she's completely dramatic about everything. At first I thought she was genuine and was just affected by your leaving so suddenly, but when she visited for so long yesterday I knew there was something fake about her. If I didn't know better, I'd think she didn't care that you were gone!"

Now  _that_ was uncharitable indeed. Perhaps Fanny hadn't put Sophie's desires before her own, but she did love her, and Sophie knew that, and she proceeded to tell her sister so.

"I know I haven't been very nice about her, even since before you left, but I know what I'm talking about. Normally, Fanny and I are so alike, but yesterday's visit... Something seemed so wrong, Sophie. I can't understand it at all.

"But never mind that," Martha then said, taking her elder sister's hand and pulling her towards the house. "I want to hear everything that's happened. I feel bad for Michael; he wanted to tell me everything he knew but at the same time he was obviously worried that he'd be breaching your confidence."

"But weren't you going to Market Chipping?"

"I can go there anytime. Let's sneak to my room so Mrs. Fairfax won't listen in."

This was very easy to do, as a shout came from the backyard, which Martha explained was Mrs. Fairfax chasing the new dog. "He found us a week ago. He's a sweet thing, but can be rambunctious to say the least. Lettie just loves him. He's very clever, I think; why, it's almost like he's human."

Closing the door behind them, they sat on her bed, kicking off their shoes like they used to do when all three of them had worked on schoolwork together. "All right," Martha declared, a bit of annoyance once again gracing her features as the ecstasy of seeing Sophie began wearing off. "Tell me everything."

"Fine. But you must swear to tell no one. Not even Lettie. I'll tell her in good time. And please don't tell Fanny I visited or you know where I am; I'd much rather not see her now."

"You have my word," promised Martha. "Now talk."

Sophie started with her meeting Howl, then went on to talk about his whisking her away to the castle, the peculiar magic box with the most tragic plays, the talking fire, the strange world called Wales, and the run-ins with the Witch of the Waste.

While she had intended to give a mere overview, Martha kept asking questions, and it turned into a long-winded explanation. By the time she was finished, her throat was feeling quite dry.

If she had expected any sympathy from Martha, she would have been disappointed, for the girl's eyes were glistening with anger. "Sophie, I love you dearly, but I have  _never_ thought you'd be such a...such a...nincompoop!"

"Nincompoop?" Sophie repeated wryly, amused despite herself at Martha's choice of words.

"Do you know what your problem is? You're too bloody nice for your own good! You're too nice to abandon someone in trouble, and you're too nice to even  _talk_ to someone about your troubles!"

"Howl wouldn't exactly agree with me being nice," Sophie responded.

"Howl deserves any chastisement you give him! Michael insisted he wasn't nearly as bad as he made himself out to be, but he still isn't safe to be around, Sophie."

"So do you like Michael?" Sophie asked, anxious to change the subject (and slightly curious about this relatively new revelation).

Martha turned slightly pink, but kept calm as she replied, "Yes, I do. We plan on getting married."

"You're too young!"

"I know that. But someday we will, and we'll have ten children."

"You do realize that won't be as perfect as it sounds."

"Well, that's true. But I still want to have that many. Anyway, good try on getting me to change the subject, but we're back to you now. It seems Howl has rubbed off on you. What did you call him-a slither-outer?"

Sophie's response was to put her head in her hands in shame at another person noting this. As she did this, a sudden, unbidden thought came to mind, and she could not help but voice it. "Whatever happened to Mr. Collins?"

"Him? Oh, who knows. Probably off trying to find some other unfortunate girl to marry. I saw him a couple of times in Market Chipping, but I always ran away before he noticed me."

Sophie nodded, then jumped when she heard a knock on the door. "Martha?" the visitor called.

The sisters stared at each other. "Mother," said Martha in horror.

"Fanny," Sophie said simultaneously, feeling sick.

"Go into the closet-I  _heard_! Just a second!-and hide. It's full of Mrs. Fairfax's old spells and potions, but it'll have to do. Would you please be  _quiet_?!" she shouted to the door.

Sophie opened the closet door, carefully tried to make room for herself, then quietly shut it, instantly feeling claustrophobic.

She heard Martha open the bedroom door. "Go away." Sophie was tempted to remember to mention later that Martha's oath to stay silent when around her mother had been broken, but she soon was distracted by a sudden nervousness which caused her stomach to feel funny.

"Now  _Mar_ tha, is that anyway to speak to your mother?"

Even through the wooden door, Sophie could hear the slight change in Fanny's voice. It was most peculiar. Fanny had always had a rather sweet voice, but this was excessive, and had a certain something which seemed slightly familiar.

Sophie heard footsteps and the sound of the door shutting.

"Were you speaking to someone, dearest?"

"Just to myself. It's the only time I get to talk in this house."

Fanny laughed. That, too, was far too melodious to be her true laugh.

Sophie's crinkled her brow. Where on earth had she heard this voice before?

"Yes, I suppose so," Fanny said with a smile in her voice. "But I thought I heard someone else. Perhaps Sophie stopped by?"

"No, she didn't. Wait-are you going to snoop through my closet now?"

Sophie was grateful for Martha's smooth warning, but understood it was pointless. It was a small closet, and what little space there was was taken up by several magical items.

She could tell the footsteps had stopped, and faintly heard Martha and Fanny talking. However, she was far too distracted with trying to quietly find some sort of cloak of invisibility. The small part of her which wasn't dreadfully afraid was criticizing her fear-after all, it was only Fanny! Yet some basic, primal instinct, the sort that causes people to jump when startled, and to distrust certain acquaintances, had a hold of her, and she felt she could  _not_ allow her stepmother to find her.

Where on earth had she heard that voice before?!

There was no cloak. She felt her anger building up, but it was stifled by another wave of terror. It was almost reminiscent of the fear she felt when she met the Witch of the Waste.

This thought was forgotten as she heard the voices rise and heard footsteps approach again. Fanny was sounding very upset, and was possibly crying. Martha, meanwhile, merely snapped at her.

Sophie wrapped her arms round herself and closed her eyes. "Make me invisible," she murmured, her voice barely audible even in her own ears. "Make me invisible. Make me invisible. Become invisible. Turn invisible."

She tried kneeling, but found the space did not allow her to do so with her eyes closed. She opened them and scrunched into a ball on the ground, hoping against hope that her magic obeyed her.

And to her immense surprise, it did. In a way, at least. Apparently, because her hands had been on her dress sleeves as she had hugged herself, her whisper "turn invisible" had come true so that her dress had become a sort of cloak of invisibility. To her immense relief, she could hide most of her braid under her dress collar, and the mass of magic objects could obscure Fanny's view of her hands and head.

This discovery was made not a moment too soon. The door opened suddenly, and Sophie could just barely see Fanny's shoes. Evidently, some of the items Sophie had shoved out of the way had been piled unstably, and they now toppled on top of Sophie and the hem of Fanny's dress.

Sophie bit back a yelp as the corners of who-knew-what landed on her back painfully. Her stepmother, meanwhile, did not hold back.

"What  _is_ all this, Martha? You should tidy it up!"

"Don't blame me!" Martha replied smoothly, sounding as though she had not expected her sister to be found in the closet. "They're Mrs. Fairfax's things, and I normally don't use it. There's more than enough space for my things in the drawers."

Sophie, meanwhile, was, despite her discomfort, very happy indeed with the turn of events. Enough things had fallen on her to mostly obscure her self from the vision of others, and if things went her way, Fanny could leave without ever knowing she was there.

"Are you satisfied now?" Martha then said coolly.

There was a pause. "I suppose so.  _Do_ let me know if you've heard from her, love."

"Of course, Mother," Martha replied cheerfully, ever the dutiful daughter. "Just as soon as Mrs. Fairfax decides to take a vow of silence."

"There's no need to be so rude, Martha."

"Yes there is, Mother. Goodbye."

There was a series of hasty footsteps, and the door was then shut forcefully. Sophie then heard Martha quickly walk further away, presumably to the window. "Hold on a moment, Sophie," Martha said quietly.

They waited for several moments, and then Martha declared it safe. Sophie crawled out from the boxes, watching as Martha gazed through the window. "There she goes over the hill," the latter said. "You won't have to worry about her for a while."

Martha then turned to face Sophie, but she suddenly stopped. "S-Sophie, what happened?"

"I cast a spell," she said rather proudly, although she quickly tried to dismantle it as she realized what a spectacle she must be, with a floating head and hands.

"That's right; you're a witch now," Martha said absently, watching with relief as the rest of Sophie appeared. "Anyway, doesn't she sound so strange? And did you hear what she asked me before she opened the closet door? 'Are you quite honest?'" Martha mimicked, her voice sounding ridiculous.

But, ridiculous-sounding or not, it was enough. The line brought forth the memory of that fateful encounter.

She had kept wondering where on earth she had heard that voice.

It had escaped her because it was not on this earth-it was in Wales.

A horrified sort of sound, almost like a strangle, came from Sophie's throat. She quickly alternated between glancing out the window and looking at Martha, asking, "Are you all right? Did she hurt you? Did she seem to cast a spell on anything?"

"What? Why, no. What are you talking about?"

Sophie's fear was contagious, and it spread to Martha's gray eyes. The former said gravely, after quickly hugging her sister-her dear, poor, clever, wonderful, stubborn sister-tightly, "Let's go get Mrs. Fairfax. I think she should know as well."

They nearly tripped as they raced to living room, where Mrs. Fairfax was just getting settled. The woman's eyes lit up, and she cried, "Oh, Sophie! I'm so pleased to see you're well! Everyone's been worried sick-"

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I must let you know some terrible news," Sophie said grimly. "Fa-oh, hello, Lettie."

There was the second sister, standing across from Mrs. Fairfax, staring at Sophie. As Lettie tried to determine whether to be happy or irritated (both for the fact that Sophie had disappeared without letting her know, as well as her visiting Martha before herself), Sophie ran up to her, kissed her on the cheek, tried to hear about Lettie's encounters with Fanny, and then stood in the center of the room.

After giving a swift but clear explanation about what had happened since she left, Sophie then recounted her indirect encounter with the Fanny impersonator. "Unfortunately, I am almost completely certain that she was Miss Angorian, the woman who had appeared with the Witch of the Waste in Wales," Sophie finished. "I'm not quite sure how Miss Angorian and the Witch know each other, but I believe it safe to say that they're accomplices."

"Oh, good heavens! It's a relief all those magic objects fell on you, Sophie; if Miss Angorian is on the same level magically as the Witch, she would have certainly noticed your magic's presence, especially after you cast the spell. All the magic items must have concealed it," Mrs. Fairfax declared, relief in her voice.

Lettie, Sophie, and Martha were now sitting together on the couch, shoulders touching, and holding each other's hands. "I thought she would just go after Howl," Sophie murmured. "She was Howl's nephew's schoolteacher, too. But now..."

"I don't mean to offend you, Sophie," Lettie said carefully, "but I think in the big picture, you're not very important. So I don't think you pose much of a threat to her. Perhaps...she wants to attack Howl on this side as well?"

Martha nodded, but Sophie asked what she meant.

"Well, if she's keeping an eye on Howl's family, that means she's trying to attack him psychologically, I think," Martha said.

"And you think I'm dear enough to Howl that she'll try to kill me?" Sophie asked, incredulous.

"He did save you a few times," Lettie pointed out.

Martha's eyes lost a bit of their gravity as she added, " _And_ he said, 'I'm thinking I just might fall in love with you next'."

Lettie gaped at Sophie. "I'm sorry, but... _what?_ "

The eldest sister sighed and briefly related the story.

"I forbid it!" Lettie cried. "A nasty person like him-"

"Oh, he's not that bad," Sophie reluctantly admitted as Mrs. Fairfax cried, "That's all just talk. He seemed like a very good boy when I met him a few years ago."

The sisters turned to Mrs. Fairfax. "You  _knew_ him?"

"Yes; Mr. Fairfax used to take me to Kingsbury to see a show, and we always used to visit Mrs. Pentstemmon-she was my old tutor, you know." The mention brought tears to her eyes, now that she had heard the terrible news that the woman was dead, and killed in front of Sophie's eyes, no less. "Mrs. Pentstemmon once showed us her student, Howl, and said he had twice the potential many of her other students possessed. Well, he seemed like a good young man, and when the rumors of Horrible Howl first began circulating, I thought to myself, 'Why, I wouldn't be surprised if that was Mrs. Pentstemmon's young student. He sounded like he had the magic to move a castle around the countryside.' I don't believe the bit about him capturing hearts in the literal sense, though. That's a lot of nonsense. But you could do much worse, Sophie."

Sophie wondered how this became a discussion about her nonexistent love life when Lettie reminded her.

"From what you've said, if he doesn't love you in a romantic sense, he at least cares about you as a friend."

"And Michael seems to think Howl has real feelings for you, Sophie," Martha piped up. "He said he doesn't treat you the way he treats other girls. But Michael did say that the moment he saw Howl not keeping up a stately appearance would be the moment he believed Howl was truly in love."

"Well, that hasn't happened yet, then," Sophie said dryly. But all this talk about Howl did bring about one useful thought. "I don't care too much about why the Witch wants me, but since she does, I'll have to defend myself. I think I'll ask Howl to teach me magic. It'd be helpful to not just guess when I'm trying to cast a spell and wonder if it worked."

"That's a good idea," Mrs. Fairfax said with a smile, which then faded as she wondered aloud, "but what happened to Fanny?"

The implications and possibilities were too frightening to consider for long. "She's probably alright. She didn't know magic, so the Witch might have just whisked her away somewhere instead of wasting magic on h-hurting her," Sophie said as the images of Mrs. Pentstemmon's death once again appeared unbidden in her mind.

The other three nodded and declared their agreement, desperate to believe it.

"I'm going to work hard too," Martha announced. "Mrs. Fairfax, could you work on teaching me defense and attack magic?"

"Well, I suppose, although I'm not the most knowledgeable with that sort of magic. Few spells of that sort result from honey potions-"

"Then we'll learn together. You might be in danger, too."

Lettie stood, determination burning in her eyes. "I'll learn with you."

"But what about Cesari's?" Martha asked.

"Never mind that. I could always make us something to eat here to practice. It'll give me a break, too. The, er, customers can be very demanding." It was silently acknowledged that the customers were mostly male. "That is, if it's alright with you, Mrs. Fairfax."

"I'll write them and let them know-"

"Thank you! And you must promise to visit when you can, Sophie, if you think it safe enough."

Sophie smiled, and she felt, despite how much more advanced the Witch's magic was, that they might give the fiend a run for her money.


	16. In Which We Return to Howl and Calcifer's Contract

Sophie returned to the castle an hour later. Howl was busy teaching Michael some spell, but he still looked up quickly to throw a quick smile at her. She found herself responding with a small smile of her own, but it soon disappeared as she closed the door behind her. "What is that?" she asked, pointing to the spell.

"It's a listening spell," Michael replied absently, trying to figure out why it kept bursting into flames every time he thought he had it. Perhaps he wasn't as vain as Howl, but it was annoying that he had singed his sleeves three times now. Michael then looked up in surprise. "Oh, hello! When did you get back?"

"Just now. What do you have to do?" She sat down next to Michael.

Howl read off the list, and then he and his apprentice went back to work. "Think about it, Michael," he explained. "You want to hear sounds  _outside_ this space, right?" He gestured to show that "this space" was the area a few feet from the table. "So if the powder should be on the 'outside' of the rest of the spell, right? So you should put it in on top."

"Oooh," said Michael, although some confusion was still in his eyes. He shoved the dud aside, then used the open space to perform the spell again. This time, it worked properly. The sounds of whistles, talking, and horses' hooves on dirt roads then trickled into the castle. "Finally!" Michael exclaimed in relief.

"Now, I can focus on you, my dear Sophie," Howl said charmingly, leaning slightly to get a better look at her face.

"No, thank you," she said dryly.

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Cold as usual. Then what is it you need?"

Sophie replied, "I'm trying to learn something. Why else would I pay attention to your magic lesson when I could be cleaning or watching another one of those 'films'?"

Michael turned to Sophie. "You want to learn magic, too?"

She nodded. "Martha and Lettie are learning under Mrs. Fairfax now, so I figured I might as well learn with you. We've decided to do what we can to fight the Witch." Sophie gave the condensed version of what occurred at Mrs. Fairfax's.

When she finished, Howl swore and Michael cried, "Martha's alright though, isn't she? She wasn't cursed? I-I mean, of course I'm worried about you, and Lettie, too, but-!"

"I understand," Sophie said, a bit amused. "No, she seems fine. She's the one who first suspected something was different about Fanny. Howl, what do you think happened to the real Fanny?"

He looked at her. Although she had tried to make herself calm as she traveled the ten miles back to the castle, she could tell that her facade was not fooling him.

"It's hard to say," he finally replied calmly. "It really all depends on the Witch's mood."

"Howl!" Michael cried, distraught by Howl's uncaring tone.

Calcifer shifted suddenly. "Watch it, Howl!"

The wizard smiled slightly. "Sorry. I'll be more careful."

Sophie watched this exchange with curiosity in her eyes, trying to distract herself from the possible terrible things which Fanny might have gone through, or perhaps was still go through. "What happened?" she asked, trying to brush away her negative thoughts.

Calcifer righted himself. " _It_  sank," he explained, looking at her meaningfully.

Sophie was desperate to grasp onto anything besides the present circumstances, and therefore paid more attention to this little comment. "Do you mean the heart you supposedly have?" she asked, cracking a smile.

"That's right." He shifted again, this time less obviously, and Sophie could see something beneath him. She abandoned her chair and knelt down by the hearth. Calcifer was apparently connected to a black, rounded lump. It took her a moment to recognize what it is.

"Michael, get over here!" she cried, her voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

He was soon by her side, inspecting the lump. "Tha-that really  _is_ a heart, isn't it?" he asked her.

"That's what I thought," Sophie replied morosely, feeling disgusted. She had seen a picture of a real heart-she remembered being surprised how different it was from the sort seen on Saint Valentina's Day-in an anatomy book she had flipped through while she waited for her sisters to decide which books they wanted to borrow from the library. This looked much darker than the illustration, and it was difficult to see it clearly with Calcifer's flames dancing above it, but she was fairly certain that it was indeed a heart.

"I told you so," Calcifer said. "You should take what I say seriously. It might be a hint."

_Well,_ Sophie thought, feeding Calcifer a log and going back to her chair,  _at least that's progress in figuring out Calcifer and Howl's contract._  She glanced at Howl and found that he had carefully turned his eyes, if not his attention, to a sheet of paper, on which he was busily writing.

She recalled what Calcifer had said the night before the fateful visits. "We share the same heart, after all." And Howl had later said, "No heart, remember?"

Could it be that Howl was honestly lacking a physical heart? But that was impossible; how could he be walking around and flirting with everyone in a skirt if he had no heart? But then, Sophie allowed, magic could make the impossible possible. But if the heart really belonged to Howl, how did it get there? Why would they make such a contract? For what purpose did Calcifer need a heart?

Well, she certainly wouldn't be able to ask the two in question about their contract-it seemed that only worked if she was specific enough. Perhaps, if she deemed it safe, she could visit a bookshop and look in the magic section. Or perhaps she could visit Mrs. Fairfax again.

"Anyway, enough about this," Howl said after a while, as if he had intentionally given her some time to reflect upon the subject. "Sophie, I don't know very much about your sort of magic. You see, magic in everyone is, at its root, the same, and everyone who has magical abilities can work the same mainstream spells. However, some people, like you, can also cast spells in a unique way. I don't share your gift for talking life into things, so I can't teach you much about that. I'll do some research though; there must be documents about that kind of magic. In the meantime, I'll teach you more mainstream spells."

Sophie nodded. "Thank you. Don't worry about getting the documents; they should be at the library, right?"

"Probably at the city library at Kingsbury."

"Then I'll get it myself when it's safe. I have some other things I'd like to look into myself."

Howl said pleasantly, "You could probably go now, I'm sure. The Witch probably used up a lot of magic over the past few days; she'll need time to recover."

"Alright, then I'll be back before supper."

Michael asked, "Should I go with you?"

"If you'd like. I'd probably get lost on my own, anyway."

* * *

Calcifer and Howl watched as they walked to the door, and the wizard let out a sigh of relief once the door closed.

"Your heart was acting funny," Calcifer informed him. "What happened?"

Howl sighed again, but this time it made him sound miserable. "Nothing happened. That's just it. I hadn't managed to win her over, and I decided to give her up. But I'm still thinking about her! And just now, I wanted to go to the library with her!"

Calcifer cackled. "So  _that's_ why you sent her out so quick; you were caving in!"

"Oh, shut up," Howl grumbled. He stood and walked to the sink, beginning a restless pace. "The Witch is desperate if she's taking the trouble to create two disguises for her fire demon. Much more desperate than I had anticipated. This isn't good."

"Was it good to begin with?" retorted Calcifer.

"True enough," Howl smiled darkly. "If I thought it'd protect the Hatters, I would send Sophie away-Michael too, if the Witch started setting her sights on him. But she would only hold someone captive and wait for me to fetch them and probably finish all of us off."

Calcifer agreed. "So, do you think Sophie's stepmother is alive?"

"It's just as I said earlier: It depends on the Witch's mood. I can't imagine the Witch holding her captive for long, though. Quite honestly, I don't have much hope."

"Neither do I," Calcifer replied. "But we'd better not say anything until we know for certain."

Howl nodded. Heading over to the cupboard, he discovered, to his pleasant surprise, that there was a bottle of whiskey there. "Bless Michael! He must have gone out early this morning." He grabbed the bottle and promptly began pouring himself a glass.

* * *

It was much cooler than yesterday in Kingsbury, which was a welcome relief. After asking three different people where the library was, and ending up hopelessly lost twice, they at last spotted the grand building.

"They need better signs," said Sophie with a huff. Michael adamantly agreed.

They decided to cut the work in half. Michael would look for books on Sophie's gift, and she would look up "some other thing". She decided Calcifer's contract with Howl was not something she should talk about with Michael, not until those two told him themselves.

The Kingsbury Library lived up to its expectations. Surely one could find whatever they were looking for in its massive stock. The problem was finding it, especially when one had no clue what it was exactly that they were looking for. Sophie figured she could ask a librarian, but her pride wouldn't allow it. If she was wrong about Calcifer's heart, it would be rather embarrassing.

An older gentleman bumped into Sophie. "Oh, do excuse me," he said, and she smiled and nodded. He stood near her as he muttered something under his breath and a book floated down near him. For him to do it so quickly and easily suggested he was quite a magic user, and his age hinted that he might be rather wise regarding magic as well.

"Um, may I ask how long you have been studying magic?" she asked, feeling her old shyness kicking in a bit.

He turned his amiable gray eyes towards her. "For about forty years."

"Then perhaps you could help me, if you don't mind. I, um, read in a book about a fire creature who made a contract with a human. Is that possible?"

"Goodness. It sounds like a rather dark book," he said, frowning.

"I suppose so. I haven't finished it yet. But is it possible?"

"Oh, yes. Do you have some other questions?"

Sophie smiled slightly. "Well, yes."

The gentleman led her to a table and the two had a seat. "I'm Richard Suliman, by the way."

"Please excuse me!" she exclaimed, embarrassed by her lack of manners. "I'm Sophie Hatter."

"I suppose you would like to know how such a contract could come about?"

"Yes, sir."

He rubbed his beard-covered chin. "Well, it's quite fascinating, really. Do you know why a falling star falls?"

Sophie shook her head.

"It's because the earth is its deathbed; stars, which are really fire demons, fall when it is time to die. If someone catches a falling star, he can save it from death by giving it his heart. It's a magical exchange, of course, so if gone about properly, that person can continue living almost as usual."

" 'Almost?' "

"From what I've read, the person is disconnected not only from his physical heart, but his emotional heart. The two are intertwined, you know. So this person often has no heart to regulate his emotions, or he may not feel any emotions at all. Those are the most common, but also the most extreme cases. It really depends on how the person was before the contract."

Sophie took some mental notes and thanked him heartily for all his help. "One last question: Do you happen to know how to break the contract?"

"That, I'm afraid, is something I can't help you with. I'm terribly sorry."

"Not at all, you've been a great help!"

"Now perhaps you could help me," Mr. Suliman said, his eyes becoming grave and dark with worry. "Have you heard of my son, Wizard Suliman?"

Sophie started. "Why, yes, I think I have. He's rumored to be a great magician. Wasn't the king himself considering hiring him as a Royal Wizard?"

Mr. Suliman seemed to beam with pride. "In this case, Miss Hatter, the rumors are indeed true. However, perhaps you have also heard of his disappearance?"

Sophie shook her head. "No, I haven't. I'm from Market Chipping; it usually takes a while for news from Kingsbury to reach us. I'm terribly sorry."

"As am I," he said with a sigh. "I suppose it's hopeless to ask you if you've seen him?" He gave a quick description, but in vain. Sophie replied unhappily that she had not had the good fortune of spotting him.

"I'm terribly worried. With the Witch on the prowl, perhaps she attacked Ben? He was even getting customers from other countries; perhaps she felt she had competition? That's why I'm borrowing this," Mr. Suliman said, showing the book he had taken from the shelf. "It's about more complex finding spells, something I haven't focused on in my years of studying. That's another problem of mine: I'm only good for  _studying_. My actual spells are usually less effective than they should be. I don't have much of an aptitude for magic, I suppose. My son Ben, though-now  _he_ is the real wizard. He has the brains  _and_ the ability."

Despite how sorry she felt for Mr. Suliman, she couldn't help but smile here. He was such a doting father, and far too modest. "I will be sure to keep an eye out for him."

Mr. Suliman took her hand in his and squeezed it. "Thank you so much, Miss Hatter. I appreciate it."

Michael then chose that moment to appear, an alarmingly high stack of books in his hands. "-yes!" he cried as he sat the books onto the tabletop. He was then shushed by a librarian who was passing by. "Sorry," he whispered to her, and then turned to Sophie. "I found fifteen volumes on your sort of magic. It's a bother that I haven't learned a levitation spell yet. Oh, was I interrupting something?" He evidently had just taken notice of Mr. Suliman.

"No, no, I was just leaving. Take care, Miss Hatter," he said with a smile, nodding briefly at Michael before walking off.

The boy asked the gentleman's identity, and Sophie explained. "I think Howl's been working on trying to find Wizard Suliman, although he won't admit it," Michael said.

"Really? Well, that sounds like something Howl would do. He can be rather nice in his own way."

Michael gave her a look.

"What?" she demanded.

"Sophie, don't kill me for asking this, but are you starting to like Howl?"

She stared at him. He unconsciously stepped back.

Sophie reached for the first book in the pile, flipping through it. "Michael?" she asked sweetly. "Which would you rather be: a newt, or a toad?"

This was the last bit of humor Sophie had for quite some time, however. It took them nearly an hour to return to the castle; while this time they had little difficulty finding their way, they had to wait a dreadfully long time to check out the books, but when they did finally arrive at the castle, Sophie immediately began researching. Howl read a few of the books himself so he could give another opinion on how to better control her magic.

In a nutshell, she needed to block out distractions, not allow her emotions to rule her, mean every word she said, and treat an object as if it were already alive. Howl had snickered rudely at the second point, but Sophie happily got back at him by making some tea "accidentally" spill on his suit. He had pointed out that it would only result in her having a hard time getting the stain out, but she retorted that he would be doing his own laundry. Michael, after seeing this heated exchange, no longer believed there was any possibility of Sophie liking Howl, and, judging by how they were now presently fighting like cats and dogs, he realized that she probably truly had considered turning him into a toad.

And so, for the next week, the days were occupied in the following way: After breakfast, Howl would teach Michael and Sophie mainstream magic. Sophie, being older and, truth be told, having more of a clever mind than Michael, would often figure out the spells first. Howl would then focus on helping Sophie with her particular kind of magic while Michael ran the shop. Howl found himself being more lighthearted than usual, not daring to let Sophie know what an effect she had on him. Sophie, meanwhile, was her usual self, save for the moments when she realized that Howl, despite being a flirtatious narcissist, was extremely intelligent, and he did have a rather nice smile.

Before the occupants of the house had realized it, only a week had passed and Sophie felt as though she had learned quite a lot. She was now able to command small objects with relatively little trouble, and she had learned how to make not only a listening spell, but also how to tell when someone is using a listening spell on you, as well as how to create an enlargement spell. With immense gratification, she found she could now command the plates to set themselves on the table, and she had only one embarrassing mishap with that.

On the other hand, before the occupants of the house had realized it, an entire week had passed, which meant that today was the day Howl went to Wales to fetch Mari and Neil.


	17. In Which the Castle Temporarily Gains Two New Occupants

"Sophie, put the spell ingredients in a cupboard somewhere!" Howl commanded as he shoved several papers into a drawer. "Hopefully they won't be nosy like a certain other person living here-"

"My question is," Sophie returned as she bolted upstairs to see if the spare room Howl had added only a few hours ago had the beds already made, "why didn't you make these preparations ahead of time? And why are they coming here anyway? I'm sure you could have slithered out of it if you really wanted to! Furthermore, why didn't you make a spare room for me?! I've been sleeping in that tiny cubby when you-!"

"Because, Miss Nose," called Howl angrily, kicking a box out of the way, "I was too busy helping  _you_ and worrying about the Witch to bother thinking about it! And you're much more heartless than I gave you credit for, Sophie; how could I turn down Megan's request? She barely let me  _near_ the children before; she must be really upset if she'd do something as extreme as letting me take care of them. As for your room, I honestly didn't think you'd stay long enough to need one. Most women wouldn't."

"I'll say," Sophie retorted, coming back downstairs when her inspection was complete. "Who would want to deal with you on a daily basis?"

"You wound me, Sophie!" he whined, although it sounded much less pathetic than he would have liked. He was too busy carrying a heavy stack of books to his room to properly instill pity into anyone.

Michael called from the bathroom, "When do you have to leave?" as he dressed up in the clothes Howl had conjured for him; the latter had been too distracted to actually switch Michael's everyday clothes with the, as Sophie dubbed it,"Wales-style" outfit.

"In about..." Howl paused to check his watch. "Five minutes. Blast! Sophie, are you ready yet?"

She glared at him. "I've been ready! You're the one who has to change!"

Howl quickly changed magically, then surveyed the room. "It'll have to do," he said finally with a nod, just as Michael came down the steps, looking very awkward in those things that were apparently called "jeans".

"You'll get used to them," Howl told him, then he pulled Sophie along as they left for that mysterious land named Wales.

They had barely pressed that strange button by the door that Megan appeared, looking frazzled. "Where the devil have you been?!" she demanded. "I'll miss my-Oh, hello, Sophie. Come on in.  _Neil! Mari!_ "

The children appeared quickly, knowing that now was no time to stall if they wanted to live. Mari wore what Howl later explained was a backpack, and Neil looked like he was going to pass out from carrying so many strange boxes.

"I'll take the suitcases, Neil," Howl said jovially, reaching out to help out his nephew.

The latter, however, brushed passed him and more wheezed than growled, "I've got it." Sophie could have sworn Neil looked anxiously at her as he added, "I'm not some kid."

Apparently, Howl noticed it as well, for he wrapped an arm with what Sophie believed to be fake affection. "Well, you have a good trip," he said jovially to his sister. "Have you had any...difficulties, since we saw you last?"

"Mari, go outside with your brother." Once the girl had reluctantly done so, Megan sighed. "Gareth's been staying with a friend. He returned only once, several hours after The Incident, and it resulted in us having an even bigger fight and him leaving with all his clothes. I don't think he's ever coming back."

Sophie barely knew Megan, but despite their uncomfortable first meeting, she felt a sort of kinship with her. So when she heard this disheartening news, which would be highly scandelous in Ingary, she felt sorry for the exhausted woman. Obviously, her issues with Gareth had existed long before The Incident if things were so grave.

However, Megan's eyes then lightened up slightly. "His loss, I suppose. If we do get a divorce, he'll still give us some money to support us. Anyway-oh, no!" she cried, looking at the clock. "I have to get going! Make sure you take good care of them! I'll see you in two weeks!"

She practically pushed Sophie and Howl out the door, locking it behind her. Dashing towards her children, she kissed and hugged them both-to Neil's chagrin-and hopped into her car and drove away. Howl and Sophie stared after her a moment, then looked at each other and shrugged.

"Any idea how you're going to pull this off?" Sophie whispered as the kids got into Howl's beastly car.

"Not really," Howl replied with a sigh. "But there are worse things than my family finding out about Ingary. Come on, Miss Nose. I've got how we're going to get home figured out, at least."

"Does it involve getting in that thing?" she inquired, pointing at the fiendish metalic creature.

Howl laughed. "Unfortunately for you, it does. Come on, come on. Time to go. I won't let it hurt you."

Sophie rolled her eyes and replied sarcastically, "My hero."

She soon found out exactly what his plan was. He wanted to keep the existance of magic a secret for as long as possible. Thus, he drove for a terribly long time and returned the car to Rivendell only when the children had fallen asleep due to utter boredom. Sophie suspected that he had put some sort of spell on the car, for none of the neighbors seemed to notice their return. "We're here," Howl whispered, waking the children up and grabbing the bags.

"Where the heck are we?" Neil asked, yawning as he stumbled out of the car. "This place sort of looks like our house."

"Funny, isn't it?" Howl said. He opened the door to Ingary, and, as it was terribly dark outside, Neil did not notice the inky blackness which seemed so peculiar. Sophie, holding a still-sleeping Mari, followed, and then Howl came in and shut the door.

Neil winced at the sudden brightness of the castle. "How'd the fire appear so fast? Oh, never mind. What time is it?"

"Nearly eleven. I'll show you where your room is."

Mari stirred slowly in Sophie's arms. "Neeeil," she drawled.

"What?" he demanded, none too kindly.

"Do you think Mother is in France yet?"

"How should I know? Come on, it's time for bed. Night," he said to Sophie, following his uncle up the steps.

Once making sure that Mari and Neil were safely out of earshot, Sophie sunk into a chair. "I just know this is going to be a disaster," she sighed to Calcifer, who was starting to show his face. "Just riding in that blasted 'car' thing was enough. Where is Michael?"

"He went to bed. I agree, though. Why do I have to hide myself for two whole weeks? That's not fair at all!"

Sophie perked up a bit. "By the way, Calcifer, there's something I've been meaning to ask you. Were you once a falling star?"

Calcifer's flames flared a bit as he began to grin. "That's right."

"And you have a real heart?"

Sophie was pretty sure he was nodding vigorously.

"But that heart is not really yours."

"That's right. Do you know whose heart it is?"

"Howl's, am I right?" she asked.

"Yes, you are!" Calcifer cheered, flaring even more. "Howl caught me and knew I didn't want to die. He gave me his heart to keep me alive, and we're tied together because of it. If he dies, I die. If I die, he dies. So don't even think about pouring water on me."

Sophie rose a brow. "But I don't even like Howl, so why should it matter?"

Calcifer cringed. "I think you're the heartless one!"

"It was a joke! Honestly. Now, this whole heart business is your contract, right? How do I break it?"

She watched in disappointment as Calcifer's flames became more subdued. "I still can't tell you that. I'll try giving more hints, though."

She nodded. "Alright, then. At least it's progress. Goodnight." Passing him a log, she went into her cubby, snuggled up in the blanket, and fell asleep despite her whirling thoughts.

* * *

The next morning, she awoke to hear Mari crying. "Neil took my toy, Uncle Howell!"

"Neil, give it back."

"She's the one who wouldn't shut up!"

Sophie groaned, pulling her pillow over her head. She had a nasty headache this morning. "Curtain," she whispered, turning to the thin cloth which seperated her cubby from the rest of the room, "become soundproof. Take all that yelling and keep it from reaching my ears."

Slowly, the yelling seemed to turn down in volume. Before long, there was complete silence, and Sophie sighed with relief as she tried to go back to th sleep, her head pounding.

Before she could, however, she yelped in surprise as two small hands began pushing on her back.

"Sophie, Sophie, Neil's being mean!" Mari cried, tears welling up in her eyes.

Howl drew back the curtain, his words suddenly coming in loud and clear. "Cariad, don't wake up Soph-oh, you're awake. You'll help me with this, won't you?"

Sophie whispered to the curtain, "Thanks anyway, curtain. You don't have to block the sounds out anymore." As Howl took Mari out of the cubby, Sophie slowly got up, wincing at the light that was now streaming into her small room.

"I'll be right there. Let me get changed first." After a quick stop at the bathroom-which, she thought irritably, Howl would never be able to pull off-she came back, watching as Howl struggled with being the responsible adult and the friend. "Alright, you two," she said sourly, "let's see if I have this right: Mari, you're upset because Neil stole your toy, and Neil, you stole it because Mari was being loud?"

"Right!" the siblings replied, glaring at each other.

"Neil, give the toy back. Mari, use your inside voice."

If it had been Howl saying this, the siblings might have put up more of a fight, but as it was a near-stranger, they grumbled, "Fine" and did as they were told. Besides, Sophie had a no-nonsense air about her today, something she had used often when dealing with her own sisters.

Michael, who was sitting at the table, watching the spectacle after sending Howl a "leave me out of this!" look, turned to her in surprise. "Sophie, are you feeling alright? You seem a bit different today."

"I have a bit of a headache, that's all. So if you two could please stop yelling, that would be very nice," she said with a strained smile to the children, who now felt a bit guilty.

"Here's some medicine," Howl said, handing her a small pill and a glass of water. "Sorry for all the noise."

Sophie and Michael gaped at him.

"What?" he asked, sounding suspicious.

"You apologized. You came right out and apologized! You never do that!" Michael exclaimed, which made Neil snicker; it was rather ridiculous how right Michael was.

"I've apologized before!"

"I don't remember it," Sophie retorted, swallowing the pill with a gulp of her water. She had to admit, she was a bit flattered. Howl's possibly-first apology was to  _her_ , of all people! She smiled slightly and said, "I appreciate it, though. Thank you, Howl."

Calcifer yelped, possibly due to the lump beneath him, as Howl cleared his throat. "Well, you're welcome. Don't expect it to become a habit, though."

"Trust me, I long ago lowered my standards when it came to you."

Mari apparently had Howl's need for attention in her genes, for she stomped her foot unhappily. "I'm bored! Where's the telly? Uncle Howell, why aren't there any real lights here? Why won't you let us go outside?"

"I'm afraid we don't live in a very good part of town. It's not good for children to play outside here." That was partially true; the Porthaven and Kingsbury entrances were quite busy and not very safe for children not accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the city. "I'll bring the telly downstairs. How would you like that, cariad?"

"A lot!" she cried, looking much happier. Even Neil smiled a little in relief, not that Sophie could blame him; the castle must be a dreadfully boring place for people used to magic windows.

So Mari watched a few films, which Howl conjured for her, and Neil occasionally glanced at the screen while he played another video game, this time on what he called a GameBoy. Mari also helped Sophie cook lunch, and Neil continued to play his game.

However, the day was long, and children can only be happy with staying inside with little to do for so long. It was also aggravating to hear people knock on the door, and then Howl would sneak outside to deal with the customer, closing the door firmly behind him. Neil had looked through a window once, but said that he must be imagining things; no one used such old-fashioned things like horses and carriages anymore. He told Sophie, "I'm probably just out of it. Nothing a little Pokemon can't cure."

Still, despite how relatively at ease the children were, Sophie was sure they were missing their parents and knew that something was very, very wrong. Neil was old enough to suspect that his parents' marriage was in turmoil, and Mari was aware enough to think that "he wasn't friends with Mother right now".

To have some sort of conversation, Sophie said, "You really love these video games, don't you, Neil?"

"Oh, yeah. I want to be a programmer when I grow up."

_A programmer?_ She supposed they made the peculiar interactive films.

" _No!_ " cried Neil, startling Sophie out of her thoughts. She and Mari turned to look at him as he kept waving his GameBoy around, looking frantic. "Nononononono!"

"What's wrong, Neil?" Michael asked, looking over the lad's shoulder.

"My GameBoy died! Where's my charger...crap! I forgot it! I have to be here for two f-"

"Neil!" Sophie snapped, glancing meaningfully at his little sister, who was watching the scene with great interest.

He looked back at her and scowled, in no mood to try and seem mature about the whole matter. Video games were more important than girls any day. "Fine. I have to be here for two  _bloody_ weeks with no  _bloody_ video games and I can't even  _bloody_ go outside!"

"There are other things to do besides those video games, Neil," Michael said, believing that, as he was the boy's senior by two years, he would be able to help in some way.

Neil snorted. "Like what? Clean?"

"What's wrong with that?" Sophie grumbled. She glanced at the door, wishing Howl would just send the customer on his merry way and come back inside.

The rest of the day stayed miserable. Neil barely spoke, and when he did, it was most unpleasant. As for Mari, she was rather quiet the rest of the day. Sophie tried her best to cheer them both up, but she could only do so much. Howl had slightly better luck with Mari, but Neil became more unhappy when Howl spoke to him.

Finally, after dinner, Neil went upstairs to go to bed early. Mari, probably knowing full well that she'd only be bored if she stayed up, did the same, saying that she didn't want to be tucked in.

"What am I doing wrong here, Sophie?" Howl whined, but she could tell he was truly worried about it.

"I don't think it's  _you_ , exactly," she replied thoughtfully. "They're probably just confused about everything going between Megan and Gareth. And I must admit, there's very little to keep them occupied here in the castle, with the exception of magic."

"And I'd rather they not know about  _that_ ," Howl replied.

Michael finished the last of the corn and said, "I saw a board game in Peterson's today. That might keep them occupied."

"Neil hates being treated like a little kid above all else," Howl said, sighing. "Mari might be interested, but not Neil. Why on earth did I agree to this?"

"Howl, you're not the one who's suffering," Sophie replied, becoming a little irked at his behavior. "Can't you just tell them about this world?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I don't want them involved in this."

"Fine! Just don't whine about it later!" With that, Sophie stood and went to bed in a huff, feeling like her headache was coming back.

Unfortunately, she didn't get much sleep, for she kept tossing and turning and thinking about her own stepmother, who was Lord knows where, possibly even...dead. The horrible concept hit Sophie, and when she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of funerals, murders, and sinister witches.

* * *

"...phie. Sophie!"

With difficulty, Sophie opened her weary eyes and spotted Michael, who looked highly embarrassed to be in a lady's "room".

"What do you want?" she groaned, drying her eyes when she found them filled with tears.  _I must really be exhausted, or perhaps stress is the reason,_  she thought;  _everyone's been getting up before me lately!_

"Well, Howl asked me last night to watch over Neil and Mari, since he had to go out today, but I think they've found some of the spell books!"

This made Sophie completely wake up. "What? Then why are you talking to me?! Go stop them!"

"I  _tried_! But they must be geniuses or something, because look!" He held up his hands...or lack thereof. They were still technically there, but his arms had shrunk to the size of a baby's and were barely visible under his sleeves. "Please do something!"

As soon as Michael finished his plea, they heard Calcifer yell, "Hey, you two! Sophie, you better get out here!"

This exclamation was promptly followed with a, "Neil, look at this!" and, "I can't believe magic actually exists!"

_Oh, dear_ , she thought, getting out of bed.  _This should be interesting._


	18. In Which There Are Several Magical Mistakes...and an Unfortunate Success

Sophie put on her best eldest-sister face and rolled up the sleeves of her nightgown. She pushed Michael aside as she left her cubby, and he sighed in frustration when he found he could not reach to right himself.

"May I ask what you two are doing?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips as she glared at the two troublemakers. She would not look at the room; she refused to be distracted. Besides, if she looked away for a moment, they very well could cause themselves to disappear.

Neil and Mari looked at her a bit nervously. Their hair was disheveled, and Mari's hairstyle seemed peculiar. Rather, it seemed much longer than Sophie remembered. Nei, though, was a mess. His hair looked slightly burnt off, and his ears were purple. She ventured to guess that he was the one casting most of the spells.

"Well? Won't you tell me?" Sophie asked sharply when they were silent.

Mari guiltily inched away from the book in Neil's hands, and Neil quickly set it down so the title was hidden against the tabletop. Sophie knew very well that it was a spellbook, and she snatched it away before they could grab it again.

She said, in a slightly louder voice, "I did not sleep well last night and I am not in the mood for your antics. Now, what were you two doing this morning?" She turned up the force of her glare.

It proved all too much for poor Mari. "It was Neil!" she cried, pointing passionately at her brother. "He wanted to see if Uncle Howell had any good cereal and-"

"Don't be such a tattle-tale, Mari!" Neil snapped back. "You were already climbing on everything, saying, 'I'm bored and I'm hungry' every five minutes-"

"But you opened the door and found the book!"

"I was going to ignore it if you hadn't kept pestering me to read it!"

"You didn't have to!"

"If I wanted you to shut up, I did!"

Sophie cried, "All right, that's enough! It seems both of you are at fault. Come here and sit down."

The siblings reluctantly took their seats at the table, and, after flipping through the spellbook, she called for Michael. When he came in, Neil snickered at his appearance, earning him a sharp, "Neil Parry!" from Sophie. She read the reversal spell, and Michael soon found himself gazing thankfully at his normal-sized arms.

"Is this the world of fairy tales, Sophie?" Mari asked, no longer able to stay quiet.

She didn't see the harm in telling them, now that they knew and even worked magic. Still, she wanted to save all the messy explanations for Howl; he had left the children practically in Sophie and Michael's care, and it wasn't fair that he got to slither out of this.

"Uncle Howell will explain later," she told Mari, which caused Calcifer to cackle.

"He's going to love that!" he exclaimed, grinning widely.

Mari screamed and leapt into Sophie's arms, while Neil yelped and fell out of his seat. Apparently, they had been too busy playing magician to notice the fire speaking earlier.

"Why does Uncle Howell have all this weird stuff in his house?!" Neil cried, not daring to take his eyes off the dreadful-looking fire creature.

Calcifer stopped smiling. "Well, you're a rude one, aren't you?" he grumbled. Flaring up, he snapped, "And it's not like I want to be stuck here, anyway! I'd be  _happy_ to get out of this bloody hearth, but I can't!" He threw a pointed look at Sophie, who muttered, "I've been little busy lately; it hasn't been my top priority."

The door creaked open, and the quarrelsome bunch turned to see Howl whistling as he entered the castle. "What luck!" he exclaimed, too busy closing the door and revelling in his good fortune to notice the group's ill humor, as well as how messy the castle was. "The king-I mean the manager-was too busy trying to find his daughter to keep his appointment with me today. Don't worry, she's not actually lost; she just decided she wanted to play hide-and-seek..."  _Now_ he saw the mess. "Have you been slacking off, Sophie?" he joked, although he seemed a little worried.

"Don't blame Sophie, Uncle Howell!" Neil cried. "I was the one who found the spellbook."

Well, Mari simply would not allow Neil to be the only one to act noble. What if he got a treat for being so good? She bounded up to her uncle and cried, "I was the one who told him to use it! I kept bothering him! I'm sorry, Uncle Howell! We're the ones who made the mess, not Sophie!" She put on her best pitiful face. Sophie watched the siblings argue about it with a little amusement, although now that she had a good look at the room, she felt overwhelmed by the cleaning she'd have to do.

Hesitantly, Howl said, "So, you've worked magic, have you?" He looked at Michael, as though begging him to explain that it was just a silly game the children had come up with, and they hadn't done actual spells. Michael, unfortunately, could not oblige him, for he shook his head apologetically.

"It's true," Calcifer informed him, not sorry at all and sounding mostly interested in how Howl would try and slither out of this one. "They know about me, too."

Sophie had to admit, Howl was doing a very nice job holding back his curses in front of the children. In the end, he just sighed heavily. "Well, I figured it would be sheer luck or a miracle if you managed to get through this whole trip without discovering a little magic. Come to the table; I'll try and explain."

Everyone sat, and Howl began a most confusing explanation about other worlds, magic, and the like. Sophie considered herself somewhat intelligent, but this was ridiculous. Eventually, Howl seemed to forget that he was speaking to children, and he began getting out pieces of paper, describing dimensions and staring to talk more to himself than to the others.

"Sometimes," Neil whispered to Sophie, as Howl began drawing lines furiously, "I think Uncle Howell just likes to hear himself talk. I heard that he's really smart, but I think he just makes things up."

"Howl," Michael said, sounding pained. "I don't think any of us are understanding this."

Howl looked up and saw how glazed-over everyone's eyes were becoming. "...Oh. Well, let's try it in layman's terms. Neil, you'll understand this, at least. You still watch  _Doctor Who_ , don't you?"

"Yes," Neil replied, perking up now that he actually understood what Howl was talking about. Sophie wondered what magic had to do with medicine.

"Well, remember when he says, 'People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly, time-y wimey stuff'?"

"Um, yeah, but that's still confusing."

Howl continued. "It's like this: Just as time can be all jumbled up and not one straight line, the universe isn't as we think of it, either. It's not just seperate planets and worlds; everything's jumbled up. What world you access depends on how far you reach and how you aim."

To Mari, who still seemed confused, Howl explained, "Cariad, it's like when you reach into a jar of gummy worms. That's how you travel to different worlds."

Gradually, her scrunched-up brow smoothed. "I think I get it."

Sophie had never heard of gummy worms, but she thought she understood as well.

"All right, so there's other worlds," Neil said. "But what about this one? What's this one like?"

"Well, I can explain that," Sophie replied. "I'm from this world, as is Michael. We use carriages to get about, not those beastly cars." She shuddered. "We don't have your magic boxes-"

"She means the telly," Howl interjected.

"-For entertainment. We watch plays, read, go shopping, go to parties, and occasionally there's a ball a select few are invited to."

Mari cried, "Have you ever gone to a ball, Sophie?"

Before Sophie could comment, Neil asked, "So I hadn't imagined those old things! Is this like the eighteen-hundreds or something, Uncle Howell?"

"For us, it's reminiscent of it. For them, it's the present. Only real difference is that they have magic here."

Howl went on to explain how he had stumbled upon Ingary in college, and, after much prodding, he admitted that yes, there were evil witches and wizards. He told an abridged version of their current fight with the Witch of the Waste, explaining only that she was a mean woman who was trying to capture Howl.

"Has she killed anyone?" Neil demanded, looking more excited than frightened.

Sophie thought of Fanny.

_Sophie, get a hold of yourself_ , she told herself firmly.  _You don't know anything for certain. Mrs. Penstemmon was the only one who-_

"Nonsense," Howl said lightly, and she looked up at him in surprise. "But she's still very dangerous. Which is why it's better for you two to stay in here, where it's safe. Alright?"

"Fine," Neil replied. Sophie was a bit surprised that he had agreed so easily.

"Alright," Mari said, much more reluctantly.

Howl beamed. "I'm proud of you two; you've handled all this extremely well. And I can see," he added a bit ruefully, "that you're both quite adept at using magic. How about I teach you a few things?"

"Yesyesyes!" the two cried excitedly. Sophie, meanwhile, silently mourned over how much messier things would become.

"Make sure you teach them a cleaning spell, too, while you're at it," she told Howl, who merely laughed.

He did teach them one, though, and she was thankful. She participated in the lessons also, once she got herself properly dressed, and it ended up being very enjoyable. Sophie put her troubles and worries behind her as she showed off her gift of speaking life into things, which thrilled the children.

When it became the siblings' turn to try their hand at proper magic, they did rather well, all things considered. This is not to say there were no mishaps; far from it. The children did become quite good at using the cleaning spell as a result. However, they soon became quite annoyed with failing all the time, and watching suds and bubbles appear out of nowhere could become quite dull after the thirtieth time in twenty minutes.

"Can we learn to conjure something?" Neil asked. "Trying to make a pen levitate is boring."

Howl replied, "You have to put more heart into it."

"Can we conjure some _one_?" Mari inquired.

Howl shook his head. "Sorry, cariad; we can't let anyone from Earth know about magic. That includes you parents. It's our little secret."

"We're not supposed to lie," Mari said reproachfully.

"Dear God, she looks just like Megan when she does that! Mari, you're right, but bad things could happen if you tell people. No one will believe you, for one, and it could lead the Witch to you both. You don't need to lie, just...omit a few things."

Sophie sent him a look. "Congratulations. You're teaching your niece and nephew to lie."

"They  _need_ to, for when they go back to their world."

Neil said reassuringly, "Don't worry. I already lie all the time."

Sophie rolled her eyes and went back to cooking lunch. "That's not exactly a good thing, either, Neil."

Michael helped teach the basics and the specifics on conjuring spells while Howl and Sophie took a break and sat outside, enjoying the cool breeze. "I'm surprised how much they've improved, even though they can't see it," Sophie said as she massaged her poor hands, which were cramping from sprinkling this and gesturing that for so long.

"Here," Howl said, taking her hands and muttering a few words. They soon felt as good as new. But he still didn't release her hands.

"Thank you," Sophie said as she tugged a little harder, which made Howl relent.

They listened to the wind for a while. Then, Howl said, "Sophie..."

"What is it?"

"...Is your sister very pretty? Not Michael's-I wouldn't stoop that low-but-"

"I beg your pardon?!"

Howl laughed. "I was just joking!"

Sophie was positively livid. How  _dare_ he?! "If you target Lettie for fun, I swear, I'll...do something awful! I'll make you go bald! How's that?"

"Are you jealous?" he said teasingly.

"I'm protecting my sister!" Sophie shouted back.

There was a boom. The two looked at each other.

Howl raised his hands in surrender. "Take it easy, Sophie-"

"That wasn't me."

The two raced inside and found that the table had been smashed. The reason for this smash, they noticed, was that a grown man had been conjured.

"IT WORKED!" the children whooped, pouncing upon the fallen man, who grunted painfully.

Michael was quite pale. "They said that they wanted to conjure Neil's GameBoy charger. They lied."

"I'm proud of your observation skills, Michael," Howl said irritably, putting a hand to his forehead. "I'm a wonderful teacher, aren't I? Apparently, they have no qualms with lying  _now_."

Garreth sat up slowly, growling for the children to get off. "Oooh, my back. What the deuce happened to me?" He took a good look at his proud childen, at the house-which was not his own-as well as Howl, Sophie, and Michael, who were all dressed in their usual, Ingarian-style clothes.

"Welcome to the castle," a voice behind him piped up. Gareth slowly turned and saw that the voice belonged to a smiling fire.

Gareth then proceeded to faint.

Neil and Mari stared, shocked that their father- _their father_ -had passed out from shock.

Michael asked Sophie anxiously if he should throw water on him.

Calcifer urged him to do so, as that wouldn't require him heating anything up. "So long as you don't throw it near me," he said a bit timidly.

Sophie proceeded to get a glass of water.

While all this was going on, Howl just smiled and smiled, knowing that he finally had something to blackmail Garreth with.


	19. In Which Conjuring Proves Quite Terrifying

Or at least, this was what Howl did for the span of about half a minute, before he jumped up and stared at Calcifer.

Sophie, who had hesitated when it came to throwing the water onto Gareth-him being practically a stranger, after all-now did so in a jerking sort of way, surprised by the sudden change in the atmosphere. Gareth sputtered into consciousness, and she watched as some sort of silent communication happened between Howl and Calcifer. The fire demon flared up a bit, then grew and grew until Sophie pulled the children behind her and Michael helped Gareth to his feet before his hair grew singed.

There was a stickiness in the air that was more than humidity. It was pure, unadulterated magic, the sort that made it a little hard to breathe and seeped into every pore. Howl's sleeves flew back as he flapped his arms towards the door as if attempting to sweep away a child from underfoot. The sweat beading on his face, though, proved that the exertion was far greater than his easy gestures made it look. Sophie kept the children tightly against her, watching as Calcifer made the door open and Howl stumbled out.

The door slammed shut.

For quite some time, no one said a word. Then, as if a great silent roaring had died down, they were able to hear themselves breathe. This was a relief. For Sophie, at least, she had felt as if all the magic had spirited away her lungs.

They waited for Howl to come in through the door again to explain, or make some sort of joke, or something. Anything. Sophie's mind reeled. One minute he laughed. The next, he had the look of a madman. Even worse, he looked terrified. It was more than just his unregulated emotions.

_Gareth scared him off_ , Sophie tried to tell herself as she slowly returned to some semblance of a state of normalcy.  _He wondered what Gareth would do to him when he woke up._

But Calcifer would not react that way. It was not a joke.

As if to emphasize this, Calcifer shot up again, even worse than before. Mari screamed and hid her head in the skirt of Sophie's dress. Neil was shouting something, probably asking what was happening.

Sophie wished to rush out the door, to try to find out what the deuce was happening. She glanced anxiously at Michael and found him eyeing the door as well. Gareth no longer leaned upon him, but against the sink, watching with a dazed expression. No doubt he thought himself dreaming.

"Come on," she finally said over the noise of the roaring fire. "Let's go upstairs. Things should be calmer there."

Like she used to herd her sisters along in their younger days, when toys and shops used to entice them and lead them away from the rest of the family, she now herded the others past Calcifer and up the stairs. She was the last one up. She looked back at the hearth but knew it was no use to try and get an explanation from Calcifer. He was busy.

She met the others upstairs. Mari bounded towards one room, but Sophie called softy, "No, dear. We'll head into Michael's room and calm ourselves down." Howl did not like anyone in his room.

After Michael cleared some of the mess out, Sophie and the children sat upon the bed, and Michael tried quite obviously to display what he probably assumed was a manly sort of composure that Gareth showed. The father ruined this impression by letting out one dull "Huh?"

"My thoughts exactly," Neil grumbled. Sophie ruffled his hair in an awkward but affectionate manner. Neil brushed her off and looked away darkly.

"Is Uncle Howell mad at us?" Mari asked tremulously, gaining Sophie's attention.

"Why would you say that?" she asked, startled.

"He ran away," Mari replied, "after Neil and I got Dad here. He's mad, isn't he? I didn't mean to! We just wanted to get Mum and Dad here so they could make up!"

Neil bunched away from Sophie a bit more, folding into himself. She looked up and saw Gareth starting to wake from his understandable stupor.

"Good God, this is real, isn't it?" he asked Michael, who nodded miserably in return.

"Welcome to Ingary, Gareth," said Sophie, who did not feel particularly obliging at the moment. She did not mean to be so curt. She did not mean to be anything, really. She knew she needed to keep the children calm, at least. But other than that, most of her feelings were drifting off somewhere far away, and she did not have enough left over to spare a thought for his state of mind. "We have seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility, but at the expense of having no talking boxes-tellies, as you call them. Howl described something about timey things and yummy worms. The children seemed to understand, so maybe you can have him run it through with you again."

"Um," said Gareth.

"Dad, you're all right, aren't you?" Mari now asked, bounding up to him and anxiously pulling on his pant leg. He looked down at her and picked her up.

"I'm fine. Sore, but...I think I must've gotten a concussion though," he added, more to himself.

Sophie ran through a few questions with him. "Then no, you're fine," she said at the end of the interview. "I've had a concussion before, and you're fine."

"Oh," he mumbled complacently. "That's all right, then. Thank you, Sophie."

She halfheartedly wondered if he thought himself going mad, but soon forgot to think about such things. Instead, she stepped into the hallway, no longer feeling quite the burn of magic that was there minutes before, permeating throughout the castle. She moved downstairs, motioning for everyone to stay up in the room while she did so.

Calcifer was not the blazing inferno she had last seen him as. He was a little more subdued, even though his size was much larger than usual.

"Are you all right?" she asked, finding herself faintly annoyed at the fact that she was almost frightened of him.

"Maybe," he hissed out between his not-quite-there teeth. "Ask me in a few minutes."

"What's happening?"

"The Witch," he gritted out. "She got a foothold in when Howl's otherworldly relatives started using magic. She was helping them along without any of us knowing. With them conjuring that man in here, she used that to really announce herself. Things could've been bad if we hadn't noticed until a few minutes later than we did. She could have materialized and used all her magic."

Sophie opened her mouth, then fell silent.

"It's not like you to not say anything, you know," Calcifer said while she absently tossed a log into the hearth.

"Howl would make a quip about that. But I don't really know what to say. He's fighting the Witch, then? You are, too?"

"We're connected, and that makes us more powerful," the fire demon replied. He seemed to be relaxing a bit more.

"But you want to break the contract," Sophie said.

"Worse things will happen than the Witch killing us if it's not broken," Calcifer answered bleakly before flaring up again.

"Who's winning?" she demanded, even though Calcifer was obviously a little preoccupied at the moment.

"Neither and both," he yelled back. "We won't be killing the Witch this time around, but I don't think we're done for, either!"

With that, his flames surged up even more, and Sophie eventually wobbled back to the stairs.

She could piece things together well enough now. Miss Angorian probably spent so much time near Neil that she cast a spell or was able to identify his presence or some sort of thing around those lines. She used Neil, whom she saw almost daily, and subtly manipulated his magic to tug herself into the castle, as if climbing a rope. And all the poor boy wanted was for his parents to come back together again.

Sophie found something growing inside her heart, an anger almost too deep to feel, but it gnawed on her, and she wanted nothing more than watch the Witch and Miss Angorian to lay on the floor like Mrs. Pentstemmon did when she died. But as soon as she thought this, the memory of that sight came again, and she gripped onto the wall in the stairwell and felt her stomach lurch, even though the castle hadn't been moving for many minutes now.

To her relief, the Parry family and Michael were not at the top of the steps waiting for her. It allowed her to slink against the wall and sit on one of the steps, gripping her sides painfully as she tried to regain control. It seemed as if she was surrounded by death. It terrified her to no end. It was not so very long ago that she saw her own father upon his deathbed, breathing his last and then becoming absolutely still, a stillness that made him seem not quite human anymore. She had to be strong then, for the sake of her family. And she needed to do it again with Fanny's...disappearance, if that truly was all there was to it. And Mrs. Pentstemmon, and now Howl...

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, repeating Calcifer's assuring words in her mind.

It was a long time before Michael finally came down. They both sat for a few minutes, listening to the silence and hoping it would be ended, regardless if it would be for good or ill. Eventually, Sophie told him what she knew.

"Well," Michael said softly, "I guess this means the Witch is done with the cat-and-mouse game."

Sophie let out a little exhale that sounded like it could have been a chuckle.

"I told Mr. Parry what I could. I think he's taking it fairly well. He's talking with his children now. I told them they should probably stay in there for the time being. It's probably a lot for him to..." Michael paused, taking in Sophie's vacant expression. "Are you all right?"

This time she definitely laughed, and she was somewhat aware of him flinching away. "If I hear that one more time..." But he meant well, at least, and she appreciated it.  _I'm glad Martha's chosen a nice lad like Michael_.

Slowly, the two went down the steps again. Sophie looked at the windows, surprised to find that the sun was setting. Calcifer was smaller than his usual size, but the power of magic remained in the air.

They scurried towards him, feeding him log after log. This seemed to rouse him a little. At the very least, it made him more comfortable.

"What happened?" Michael asked. "Did Howl win?"

"I wouldn't be here if he didn't," Calcifer replied tiredly, exerting himself as little as possible while halfheartedly gnawing on a log. "Don't worry about him. The sorry sod will probably be back." He paused. "Eventually."

Sophie and Michael looked at each other. The fear reflected on the other's face fueled their own terror. Calcifer fell asleep after muttering how there would be a big day tomorrow.

"He must be badly off, then," Michael cried as best as he could in a whisper. After seeing what Calcifer was capable of, he did not want to make him very angry by waking him up. "Maybe Calcifer will know where to find him!"

"He's out cold," Sophie replied, her heart hammering in her chest. "I-in a manner of speaking, of course. Anyway, we won't get anything out of him today."

The Parry family came down, and Michael explained to them as cheerfully as he could that Howl was fighting the evil Witch and that he would be back tomorrow, perhaps. Mari, used to the results in fairy tales, relaxed immediately and claimed that since Uncle Howell was good, he would be fine.

_Not that good_ , Sophie thought morosely.

Neil seemed to relax too, just a little. "It's all right then. He's alive."

Gareth said nothing.

Everyone had a cold meal. The adults were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to keep Neil and Mari from having cereal for their dinner. Michael, Gareth, and Sophie all chewed thoughtfully on their bread and cheese. The inside of the castle gradually dimmed as the sun set, and eventually they were in utter darkness, save for the small little flicker of light in the hearth. Michael summoned some candles, glancing warily at Gareth lest he startle him with too much magic. Gareth watched the candles with grave fascination and not a little disbelief.

"I miss Uncle Howell," Mari said tiredly, resting her head on the table. "When is he coming back?"

"Tomorrow, probably," Sophie said, glancing at Michael.

Gareth stood now, taking Mari into his arms. "I think it's time for bed," he said. His voice sounded a little stilted, but then he had spoken hardly a word today, at least when Sophie was within earshot.

"I'll go too," Neil replied, scooting away from the table. Sophie did not miss the way his eyes darted towards the door. "Mike," he then said, ignoring when the older boy awkwardly corrected him, "when Uncle Howell gets back, do you think he could bring me on as an apprentice, too? I think I have a real knack for it. And the least I can do for not listening to him is to help him defeat that Bi-"

"Neil Parry," Gareth snapped.

"-Witch," Neil added sheepishly.

Michael looked to Sophie for help.

"I'll talk to Howl about it," she said at last. Neil could not know about the Witch using him to get to Howl. "I think he will be a bit busy to teach you, but maybe after Midsummer Day? No using magic unless he is teaching you, either way."

Neil brightened at this, not noticing the way Michael's features darkened with concern. "All right, fair enough. Thanks, Sophie. I know I can always count on you. Night, Mike," he called as he followed his father and sleeping sister up the steps.

Michael waited a while before hissing worriedly, "But that's after the curse-!"

"Exactly. Either Howl won't be able to teach him, or it will be safe for Neil to use his own magic."

He shrugged helplessly. "That makes sense, I suppose. Should we wait a few more minutes? It's nearing eleven already, and it's been a long day."

Sophie waved him away. "Go on. I'll just be up a few more minutes. I couldn't sleep if I tried."

Michael hesitated, then nodded. "I don't dare use my own powers to find Howl. What if the Witch gets in again?"

"Howl's alive. We'll just have to be patient," Sophie answered with a confidence she did not feel. "Good night, then."

"Good night."

Sophie listened to the footsteps going up the stairs before sighing heavily, resting her head in her hands. Waking up Calcifer seemed very tempting at the moment, but she was not so nervous that she felt the need to disturb him. Really, he was in as much danger as Howl was today, was he not? She was concerned, of course, but somehow a fire demon seemed much more capable of surviving a wicked witch than a human wizard, with or without a heart.

And if she had to be honest with herself, her relationship with Calcifer was different from her relationship with Howl.

"Have you got any coffee?" a rough voice asked, sending her into the air before she plopped back into her chair, her heart racing.

"No, no coffee, sorry," she gasped.

Gareth had the grace to look a little ashamed. "I didn't mean to startle you. I realize things have probably been the worse for you than anyone else here. May I sit?"

Gesturing to the seat next to hers, Sophie asked, "Why's that?" It seemed odd to her that the uncouth Gareth Parry seemed so...docile. On top of that, he was being awfully polite.

"Because you're in love with Howl," he answered, "aren't you?"

Sophie's cheeks flushed. "No such thing! I-Well, all right," she added relentingly. "I suppose you would think that, considering how Howl and I pretended to be a couple, but-"

"Michael already told me that was an act," Gareth replied, eyeing her. "But you honestly do have feelings for him, don't you?"

If Gareth of all people was willing to give her relationship advice, and if she was almost tempted to take it, then the day had to be a bizarre one. "Very, very small ones," Sophie said in a squeaky, reluctant voice. "But don't you ever, ever tell anyone that, or I will feed you to the Witch."

"I don't want to. I'm not a girl," he replied bluntly. "I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were in for."

"When will you learn that I do not need your help regarding Howl?" Sophie shot back. She was smiling, though; Gareth clearly did not mean to antagonize like he did last time.

He gave a little hesitant smile himself.

"Even you must be a little impressed with Howl now," Sophie added, "what with him turning out to not be the lazy bum you perceived him as."

"I'll grant you that," he said, although he still seemed dubious. "Howell really is set up to be the next Royal Wizard?" Immediately following that statement, he let out a small scoff. "Saying such a ridiculous thing..."

Sophie shrugged. "It will take time to get used to it, I expect. By the way, thank you."

"For what?"

She rose an eyebrow. "You're trying to cheer me up, aren't you? Unless I'm completely off."

His ears turned pink, and Sophie resisted the wild impulse to laugh at the sight.

"Not doing a very good job, am I?" he replied wryly. "Even I have a heart. And despite how I usually act, I don't hate Howell so much that I wish him dead."

"Especially now that he's not such a good-for-nothing?"

"Well, yes. I do want to apologize to him about that. I wouldn't take those kinds of insults when I'm working for a king. I'd deck the guy. I'm sure the philandering he's done is exaggerated, too, probably."

Sophie snorted at that. "No, that's true enough. He's self-obsessed, a coward, and he's courted half of Ingary, it seems. Michael needed to scare off angry aunts too many times to count, or so he says, and I believe him. He flirted with me the first time we met, even. He's incorrigible, really." Talking about Howl made her stomach sink, and she quickly turned the interrogation on Gareth. "So what did happen between you and Megan?"

His lips formed a thin line and he looked towards the hearth. "I said something I shouldn't have, and it spiraled out of control. It was mostly my fault."

"What did you say?" Sophie inquired.

Gareth grumbled, "You're quite the nosy one."

"Yes, yes, I'm Miss Nose, now what did you say," Sophie demanded, no longer asking.

Gareth mulled over the options he had: go over his tumultuous marriage and possible divorce, or abandon the conversation and risk letting her grow afraid again. Gareth was not by nature a particularly sympathetic or sweet person, but he did feel he owed something to Howl, and he didn't mind this Sophie person as much as he had during their first meeting.

"I told her I regret being her husband," he begrudgingly admitted.

Sophie stared at him. "In jest?"

"In truth," he answered drily.

Sophie continued to gape at him. "And...you did tell her you didn't mean it, didn't you? Or...did you mean it?"

"I'm still not really sure. I mean, I was mostly just tired from my job-dealing with Howell wasn't something I planned on dealing with as soon as I got home either-and I did have a little liquor in me...but I was...That is..."

"You still meant it."

"Yes. I just don't know if I meant it only at that moment or if I really do feel that way. I stayed at a friend's flat, trying to figure it out." He cleared his throat then, looking at the hearth with an embarrassed intensity. "It's very awkward to talk about. Either way, Megan sounds set on a divorce."

Sophie, on the other hand, was unimpressed. "Did you two try talking it out?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "It depends on what you-"

"So Megan attempted to talk and you shut her down because of your pigheadedness?"

Gareth glared at her, and Sophie happily launched herself into a heated debate which proved a helpful diversion from another, more pressing issue.

Around midnight, the door crashed open, and the aforementioned issue resolved itself. Howl burst in singing the saucepan song, closing the door even while leaning against it so he could regain his bearings.

"It's so bloody gloomy in here!" Howl roared, falling this way and that before wrapping his arms around the shoulders of a now-standing Sophie and Gareth. "How are you lovely people! Gareth, what an unexpected pleasure! I hope you find my ca- _hic_!-castle to your liking! Soooophie, you look absolutely  _beauuuuuuuutiful_ , but that's usual for you."

She slid out from under his grasp, making him stumble and grab onto the table. "Hopeless," she groaned. For a minute, though, she felt a joy so strong that she almost couldn't think. Then her brain caught up to her and reminded her that the reason everyone had been worried stiff was because Howl had the urge to go out and get drunk after his fight with the Witch without even bothering to let them know where he was.

"Walls, make sure that the others don't wake up," she told them very, very seriously. The walls, now given a bit of life, must have been scared to death, for even when Sophie launched into her tirade, not a peep came from upstairs.

"How dare you!" she shrieked now, pointing her finger at him, making him stumble backwards. Gareth, quite wisely, got out of the way quietly with a mix of hidden intimidation and amusement. "You prance off without a word, and all we have is a half-dead fire demon to rely on for information!"

"Would you mind casting a spell so I can sleep in peace?" Calcifer groaned before falling silent again.

Sophie was pretty sure Gareth squeaked when Calcifer talked, but could not attend. "If you were actually busy, or lying in a ditch somewhere with broken bones or in the Waste, I could forgive you, but no! You went out to a bar without even telling us-Gah! You...You...Gareth, be useful and give me a word!"

"Er, he sucks?" he supplied, trying to think of the cleanest thing he could think of.

"You suck!" Sophie screamed, and Howl toppled back against a wall. The latter being a bit too petrified to say much in return, she stormed back to the table and began cleaning up plates with a vengeance. "I refuse to think I got caught being so miserable about..." She huffed loudly, shaking her head.

"My turn, then?" Gareth asked her, and she nodded, waving her hand over to the inebriated wizard while she threw the plates into the sink. As she turned around, she saw Gareth pulling Howl up by his fancy coat.

"The Witch...She got into the castle using Neil, didn't she? She used my boy to get in? Then if my own son isn't safe, and he's in the place that is presumably the safest in the apparently-multiple worlds, then what of Megan? Is Megan safe?"

Sophie saw now, past her ebbing anger, that Gareth was not up solely to comfort her. This was his number one priority all along, and she watched the scene silently while her blood pressure returned to normal.

"Huh?" Howl said intelligibly. "Oh. Yes, she should be fine all the way in France. When she comes back, that's when she might be in an eensy-weensy bit of trouble. We're the ones in trouble. Yep. Sophie dear, you get to come up with things you want in a new house, okay? Okay. We are moving the castle!"

"What?" Calcifer piped up, peeping over a log. Pitifully, he said, "No."

"Yes," Howl said stubbornly.

Calcifer sank into his logs, the fire hissing sadly and sleepily.

"You know it's our only option...Okay, that's enough chatter. Someone, for heaven's sakes, help me fine the stairs. Sleep now, talk later..."

Since Megan was safe, Gareth obliged and helped Howl to his room. Sophie, meanwhile, got changed and cuddled in her cubbyhole. Now that Howl was back, she had no qualms falling into a heavy, restful slumber. Too much happened that day, and she did not want to think of how badly she wanted to weep for joy when she saw Howl in the doorway.


	20. Which Contains a Move and a Great Deal of Stress

The morning came sneaking into the castle without Sophie noticing. It took her a minute, upon opening her eyes, to realize it was due to the fact that the castle was actually quiet. If she listened carefully, she could hear the wind moaning softly through the other side of the wall.

Slowly, she sat up, her muscles sore from being so tense the day before. Leaning her head languidly against the wall, she wondered if she should go back to sleep. No doubt Howl wouldn't be up for hours, trying to sleep off the hangover that would plague him for the rest of the day. Gareth, too, would probably sleep in after the late night they pulled. The children would have woken her by now if they were up.

"I suppose that leaves Michael and Calcifer," she yawned quietly. She remembered how her finger dug into Howl's chest the day before, close to his throat, since she was too busy yelling to focus much on her aim. She remembered the lack of pulse, which was what made her decide to drop the argument. Howl seemed like a fairly normal person-for a philanderer and a wizard-despite not having a heart in his chest, but she felt certain that his contract had left some sort of lasting change in him. For example, he did seem to care about people, but not to the degree that he would make a common-sense decision of coming home directly after a dangerous clash to assure the people there that he was all right.

_Perhaps_ , Sophie wondered,  _he can only feel the shallow aspects of affection, and the very deep-such as when he ran to Mrs. Pentstemmon's place to save the woman, God rest her soul; the sort of love that transcends the distance between his heart and himself. Perhaps he can't feel the in-between emotions._

Somehow, that seemed like a rather sad fate.

Sophie pushed aside the curtain and immediately retreated. The sound that suddenly swarmed into her ears startled her. Experimentally, she closed the curtain, and the sound went away.

"Was that man actually thoughtful for once?" Sophie wondered aloud, rolling her eyes skyward before opening the curtain more slowly this time.

To her shock and amazement, the sound was not the only thing that bombarded her senses. There was a great deal of magic again, but not the sort that clashed and fought like yesterday. It was just strong and Howl's.

Gareth and the children ate breakfast-cereal again-in an out-of-the-way corner. Michael and Howl pranced around the castle making different markings. Michael made them carefully and slowly, while Howl went about in his usual slapdash manner.

"You're up early," she called to him. To the Parry clan, she asked, "Would any of you like bacon with that?"

"No using Calcifer," Howl said, glancing at her as he went past, going up the stairs. "He's exhausted, and I need him at the top of his game for when we move."

"When are we doing that?" Sophie asked.

"Today, if possible" was Howl's answer. "And try not to yell much. I'm still hungover."

"He must be really frightened," she murmured to the bowl as she grabbed a box of cereal, which was full of odd colorful shapes and was decorated with a cheerful leprechaun on the front, "if he is going on like this when he feels so awful. How do you feel, Calcifer?"

"I hate moving," he squawked, "far more than I hate cooking!"

"Ah," she said. "That's quite the statement."

But Calcifer's perturbed state made that her last joke, and she instead began conversing with Gareth and the children. Through their interactions, it certainly seemed Neil and Mari did not feel quite so distant from their father anymore. This cheered her; after losing her own father, she knew the emptiness one could feel. She felt it would be a shame if they should lose their father while he still lived.

"Sophie!" Howl yelled. "What sort of place would you like to live in? We're moving all the entrances."

Sophie's first thought took her to Mrs. Fairfax's cottage. She had always loved it there. "A place with lots of flowers, please. If it's not possible then that's fine-"

"I'll work on it!" Howl bellowed, still upstairs somewhere. "Hell's teeth! My head..." came softer.

"You're the one doing all the yelling," she called with apathy. But she felt even more cheered by the fact that her opinion actually mattered to someone. For all Howl's faults and self-absorption, he did at least try to accommodate for her.

A few hours later, Howl and Michael stopped for a brief lunch break. They had cold sandwiches and some pastries Michael had brought from Cesari's the other day.

While they dined, Howl said, "Sophie, we need to set up a new shop, one not connected with magic. Hiding in plain sight didn't deter the Witch from finding us. Now we will have to be sneaky about it. Suggestions? Maybe selling hats?"

"Absolutely not!" she cried. "We can sell...flowers. We will be living near a place with plenty of flowers, won't we?"

"That works," he said. "We're just about finished." With an irksome smirk, he added, "You seem a little excited, Sophie. No, no, don't try to squash out that smile. It will only make you more adorable."

"Howl," Gareth said as he took a swig of his beer, "don't flirt in front of the children."

Michael laughed just as he took a bite of his sandwich, prompting him to turn away. Calcifer did nothing to hide his amusement, his cackle still apparently disconcerting to Gareth. Howl sulked slightly, but dropped it.

"Oh, it's all right, Tad," Neil said, glancing at Sophie for just a moment. "He used to flirt with girls all the time when he brought him round the house before. I'm used to it. Although I'd never sink as low as him."

"Neil," Howl sighed.

Howl soon got back to work, repainting the blobs by the door and making a few final markings with Michael's assistance. Sophie spent the time sewing dresses for Mari's doll and collaborating with Gareth to try to get Neil to solve his revived boredom by reading an actual book-an act Gareth did not often indulge in himself, but the saying "Do as I say, not as I do" was thrown about quite a bit during this discussion as it grew in liveliness.

Michael disappeared for a bit, holding a silver shovel. Howl stopped jumping here and there and cried, "This is it, everyone! I'll need you all to step back. No, Mari, go back to your dad. There's my girl." Howl rested the shovel on his knee in order to chalk a sign on both handle and blade and add a pinching of grains onto it. "Are you ready, Calcifer?"

He popped up with great reluctance. "As ready as I shall ever be," he said. "You know this could kill me, don't you?"

"Look on the bright side," said Howl. "It could be me it kills. Hold on tight. One, two, three." He dug the shovel into the grate, very steadily and slowly, keeping it level with the bars. For a second he juggled it gently to get it under Calcifer. Then, even more steadily and gently, he raised it. Michael was quite obviously holding his breath. "Done it!" said Howl. Logs toppled sideways. They did not seem to be burning. Howl stood up and turned round, carrying Calcifer on the shovel.

The room filled with smoke. Gareth gave the children towels to cover their noses and mouths lightly. Howl coughed. He had a little trouble holding the shovel steady. Sophie's eyes were watering and it was hard to see clearly, but Howl's heart was quite obviously rocking to and fro in the indent of the shovel. Her own heart went out to Calcifer, who feebly clung to the shovel.

"Won't be long!" Howl choked, trying to be soothing. But he had to shut his mouth hard and stand for a moment trying not to cough. The shovel wobbled and Calcifer looked terrified. Howl recovered. He took a long, careful step into the chalked circle, and then another into the center of the five-pointed star. There, holding the shovel out level, he turned slowly round, one complete turn, and Calcifer turned with him, sky-blue and staring with panic.

It felt as if the whole room turned with them. Neil held Sophie's hand. Michael staggered. Sophie felt as if their piece of the world had come loose and was swinging and jigging round in a circle, sickeningly. She did not blame Calcifer for looking so frightened. Everything was still swinging and swaying as Howl took the same careful steps out of the star and out of the circle. He knelt down by the hearth and, with enormous care, slid Calcifer back into the grate and packed the logs back round him. Calcifer flopped green flames uppermost. Howl leaned on the shovel and coughed.

The room rocked and settled. For a few instants, while the smoke still hung everywhere, Sophie saw to her amazement the well-known outlines of the parlor in the house where she had been born. She knew it even though its floor was bare boards and there were no pictures on the wall. The castle room seemed to wriggle itself into place inside the parlor, pushing it out here, pulling it in there, bringing the ceiling down to match its own beamed ceiling, until the two melted together and became the castle room again, except perhaps now a bit higher and squarer than it had been.

Howl helped himself up on the shovel and opened the door with the knob orange-down.

A wide, weedy drive wound away from the door now, among clumps of trees most picturesquely lit sideways by the low sun. In the distance stood a grand stone gateway with statues on it. "Where is this?" said Howl.

"An empty mansion at the end of the valley," Calcifer said rather defensively. "It's the nice house you told me to find. It's quite fine."

"I'm sure it is," Howl said. "I simply hope the real owners won't object." He shut the door and turned the knob round to purple-down. "Now for the moving castle," he said as he opened it again.

It was nearly dusk out there. A warm wind full of different scents blew in. Sophie saw a bank of dark leaves drift by, loaded with big purple flowers among the leaves. It spun slowly away and its place was taken by a stand of dim white lilies and a glimpse of sunset on water beyond. The smell was so heavenly that Sophie was halfway across the room before she was aware.

"No, your long nose stays out of there until tomorrow," Howl said, and he shut the door with a snap. "That part's right on the edge of the Waste. Well done, Calcifer. Perfect. A nice house and lots of flowers, as ordered." He flung the shovel down and went to bed. And he must have been tired. Now he could properly sleep off whatever might have remained of his hangover.

Sophie was tired too, which she felt a bit guilty about. She had done very little, which bothered her a great deal, so why had she any reason to feel so exhausted? But watching Michael and Howl spring about all day had worn her out, and it had humbled her as well, seeing how advanced they were in their magic. Michael flopped into the chair and ate a pastry as he ignored Mari's bombardment of questions, staring out at nothing. Sophie perched on the stool, feeling strange. They had moved. It felt the same, but different, quite confusingly. And why was the moving castle now on the edge of the Waste? Was it the curse pulling Howl toward the Witch? Or had Howl slithered out so hard that he had come out right behind himself and turned out what most people would call honest?

Sophie glanced at the staircase, concern in her features.

* * *

Her eyes shot open.

The darkness of the cubby surrounded Sophie in a way that actually helped restore peace. The heavy sound of her breath broke whatever remaining hold her dream had on her, and she sat up, settling back into the physical world.

_I'm certainly not going back to sleep after a dream like that!_ she thought, pulling her robe around her as she got to her feet, parting the curtain just slightly.

The spell on her cubby must still have been in effect, because it was only then Sophie heard the murmuring in the kitchen. As she poked her head through, she saw Howl slouched over in a chair, speaking quietly with Calcifer.

"Sorry, my friend, I'll let you rest now," Howl said, concluding whatever discussion they had just had. "We've both been pushed to our limits the past few days."

"More me than you," Calcifer spat- _without_ , Sophie thought,  _his usual fire, har har_. "Most of that magic was thanks to me."

"Yes, and I thanked you for that by giving you my heart, so you needn't fish for gratitude," Howl chuckled, glancing away-which happened to be in Sophie's direction.

They both straightened just a little as their eyes met. He recovered first. "Of course your long nose couldn't stay out of the conversation, even at four in the morning and with a spell on the curtains!"

She bristled a little and came out into full view. "I only listened to the part where you were wrapping it all up, thank you," Sophie said loftily.

"As if you wouldn't have listened to the rest if you could," he chuckled.

"I was-I was coming out for some coffee."

Howl said, "Coffee at four?" as Calcifer snapped, "I am  _not_ making coffee."

"I'm sorry, Calcifer, I wasn't thinking. How are you feeling?" she asked, kneeling beside the hearth and feeding him a log in appeasement. He took it greedily.

"I'm tired and this blockhead woke me an hour ago. I am going to bed, so if you have to fight, fight quietly." Calcifer's eyes closed.

Sophie glanced at Howl, raising a brow. "Losing your beauty sleep at three?"

"You know as well as I do that I don't need it. Coffee at four?" he persisted.

"I thought I'd do some early morning cleaning."

He gestured to the chair beside him. She eyed it and took the one across from him instead.

"You wound me."

"I seem to inflict pain upon you quite often, yet you hardly seem to suffer from long-term effects. Lucky you," Sophie retorted.

"Only because my heart is physically unattached to me at the moment."

She wondered if this was true, glancing at him again. Yet he wore such an amused expression that she found herself growing annoyed at the falsehood of his comment.

"I was certain you would sleep till noon," Sophie grumbled, stifling a yawn as she grabbed a pastry Michael had bought a few days ago.

Howl took one too, chewing thoughtfully for a long while. "Bad dream?" he then inquired, looking at the slumbering Calcifer.

She nodded, belatedly realizing that he posed it as a question, not as an answer to her own comment.

"Me too," he replied quietly, just when Sophie began to blush and utter her retort.

Her retort died. "Really?"

He nodded. "I dreamt someone died my hair ginger."

Sophie sputtered into a laugh. It was of short duration, but Howl had accomplished his purpose, making him smile as well.

"It would serve you right, then," she retorted, her smile still not yet faded.

Howl got up, grabbed another pastry, and, instead of sitting in his previous seat, he sat very close to Sophie.

"Howl," she said warningly.

"What?"

She shifted her chair a little bit away. He followed her, purposefully dragging the chair to make an ugly sound.

"Shh!" she hissed. "You'll wake Calcifer!"

"Then you ought to stop moving!" he replied, using his debonair grin to mollify her.

Sophie refused to give in. She stopped moving away, but instead she growled, "You are the most ridiculous man that's ever lived. Stay away from me."

"'I love to hear her speak, yet well I know / That music hath a far more pleasing sound,'" muttered Howl to himself.

She flared, but displayed remarkable self-control in keeping her mouth shut, for Calcifer's sake. As the gentle crackling from the hearth filled the room, Howl laid his hand on top of Sophie's. She flinched, turning to him with a verbal barrage at her ready.

But Howl's expression had changed to one of gravity. He no longer looked at her, but at the newspaper flung haphazardly upon the table. She saw nothing of interest until she found a headline on Midsummer Day. "The grand event is little more than a month away," read one line.

Sophie could not bring herself to hold his hand in return, but she quietly let it rest upon hers, feeling the steady warmth that lied.


	21. In Which Things Slowly Crumble

Over the next week and a half, a peculiar air filled the moving castle.

In some ways, normalcy returned to their lives. Sophie found herself extremely taken with the garden near the Waste, which she frequented either to find flowers to sell or for her own personal pleasure. The shop took off. They kept it in Vale End, for fear that opening it in Market Chipping would bring more unnecessary trouble. Sophie felt rather disappointed in this decision-more than once, she turned the handle to lead her to Market Chipping, but she never opened the door. She was not so foolish as to set out willy-nilly, even if she did fight Howl just to keep the portal open.

In any case, normalcy made itself known in the routine they set up. Michael helped Sophie in the shop. Howl only became a nuisance when he worked there. The girls flocked to him, and then they flew away once they realized they had a dreadful habit of wanting to buy far too many flowers under his care. Sophie and Michael-for different reasons-pushed him out, urging him to focus on his spells for the king instead.

The children, too, saved everyone. Since the battle, they were very careful in biting back their complaints and behaving as well as possible. It was killing them, anyone could see, but they dared not let them help in the shop. Sophie and Michael could at least somewhat identify when a spell was being cast now. The children could not, and could be in danger of being cursed themselves. Still, they would leave soon, and that cheered them, as did the fact that their father spent so much time with them and did not look like he'd rather be doing a thousand other things. Their energy and naive perspectives warmed the adults' hearts. Even Neil, cynic though he may be in his own world, was still so unfamiliar with this realm of magic that, like Mari, he thought all fairy tale logic applied. Many a time, he spoke of the Witch's demise as a certain thing. Howl took this as a sign that he had grown in Neil's estimation, and he flamboyantly flaunted it, making smooth and confident remarks when he performed spells: "Yes, few wizards can do this one." "Oh, Mrs. Pentstemmon, the good old dame, said I had quite a bit of talent from picking up this spell so quickly." "Perhaps you can follow in your old uncle's footsteps and help me run a wizard shop when you kids are older. I must warn you though, it's not as easy as I make it look."

Beneath the cheer and busyness of the occupants of the moving castle, however, was a quiet uneasiness. They waited for the Witch to make her next move. Howl, when not causing a fuss or making spells for the king, did his best to try and find a lead in finding his fellow Royal Wizard and Sophie's stepmother, though it took Sophie a while to realize what he was doing. He was also working on a way to connect the castle to that France place so Gareth and the children might find Megan before she returned to Wales. That was the only thing he was open about. Michael, meanwhile, disguised himself with different cloaks to check up on the ladies in the Fairfax household in Upper Folding every few days. Once, he accidentally disguised himself as a horse, which, when he began speaking, made Mari laugh 'til the milk she drank came out of her nose. Despite how amusing his disguises could be, it was not lost on Sophie that the reason he visited was to make sure her sisters and Mrs. Fairfax were safe, and that the reason she was never asked to go along was because she might bring added danger somehow. That stung, but she was an older sister first and foremost, and she would not bring any more trouble that she could help to her family, even if she sometimes needed to bite her tongue to hold back some jealous remark when Michael needed to go to Upper Folding. Tensions and fear were always there, slowly building like fallen snow, ready to smother the moment they grew too high.

And to make matter's worse, Sophie had her heart to worry about. After the night where Howl held onto her hand, Sophie could not regain the passionate indignation that had previously reigned in her interactions with him.

_And she hated that._

She was vulnerable in the entirety of their acquaintance. She had relied on him for a place to stay, for his help in Wales, for his protection from the Witch and so on. But at least she had her sharp tongue to keep him emotionally distant and as impervious as possible to his flirtations. But that night, though his words were light, his actions spoke louder and more honestly. It was a long time before he let go of her hand, and when he did, he made a joke about how she ought to go to bed, not that she needed her beauty sleep.

She could only say, "Goodnight, Howl."

And she  _hated_ that!

If she was physically vulnerable before, now she was emotionally. Now was not the time for this. Actually, there ought to never be a time for this. Howl, though not nearly what his reputation presented him as, could not be someone she seriously thought of in any sort of devoted fashion. It would come back to bite her in the end. She had done well not fancying anyone in her younger years. She simply just needed to stop.

Far easier said than done. If truth must be told, Sophie, in the darkest depth of her heart, suspected that when they both argued over the door to Market Chipping, it was more for the fun of it than a real difference in interests. And that was not good, because she needed to dislike him. Worse yet, she did not really think Howl would ever completely eliminate the Market Chipping entrance, because of her wishes and attachment to it. It was narcissistic, it was delusional, it was...Howl-esque of her. But the belief-the girlish, childish hope-held out nonetheless.

Throughout this week and a half, then, Sophie did whatever she could to try and block herself off as much as her stupid affection would allow. She considered offering her treacherous heart to Calcifer, but that seemed like it would not be very wise.

She decided to go with less-drastic measures. For example, when Howl stated that the guest rooms he had added on were ready, Sophie refused to move in. It made her situation more unseemly than before, she claimed, although she had to admit a real bed and space of her own to move around in seemed quite tempting. But to move in and have that so-called "space of her own" meant it was really "the space of her own in Howl's house", and that seemed to make her stay there seem awfully permanent.

Today, she also decided to cut up one of his suits.

He didn't deserve it, really, considering all he was doing for her and her family, let alone his own sister's family. But she caught him once with that devilishly perfect smile, and it was directed at some doe-eyed customer with hair a weak shade of yellow and blood-stained cheeks. It was not that she was jealous, of course. She was not so far along in her feelings to be jealous. She was certain of that. But he was no doubt going to drop that watery-eyed thing the second he spotted another girl. It was wrong for him to do that. If a man did that to her-that is, one of her sisters, she would never forgive them.

It was just the sort of motivation she needed to spur her into some kind of alienating outburst, and what better way to do that than to ruin one of his much-beloved suits?

"Sophie! What sort of destruction have you wreaked now?" Howl exclaimed when she entered the castle after taking a turn around Vale End in an attempt to stir up more of her ire. He did not seem very angry, just bewildered and exasperatedly amused. He pointed to a basket left obtrusively on the table, filled with the puzzle pieces of his suit.

Her indignation died down as embarrassment and shame at her actions crept in, and she hurriedly tried to fan the flames of irritation again by snorting and saying, "Gah! Never you mind. A vain, cowardly, no-good man like you wouldn't listen to reason if someone cut up your clothes to open your eyes to it!"

Her excuse sounded pathetic in her ears, and this time, Sophie was successful in gaining some anger-towards herself.

"And here I thought I understood women, yet you baffle me at every turn, Sophie dear." Howl smiled ruefully as he picked up a piece of his attire. "Or were you trying to get my attention because I've been neglecting you?"

"Believe me, I haven't felt had any qualms with you turning your attention to those poor girls that come by the shop, except in that it scares them off or they're hurt by it."

The second Howl's gaze snapped back to hers, Sophie knew she'd made a dreadful mistake. He smiled victoriously.

"I meant I neglected you because of my work, but Sophie, you're actually jeal-!"

"I am *not*!" she screeched. "I only feel bad for those girls! That's...!" She did not finish her thought, instead voicing her disgruntlement and humiliation in a series of grunts and crashing dishes as she prepared for dinner.

"Not to interrupt," a low, awkward voice ventured, "but we ought to go."

Sophie whipped around, just now noticing the Parry family squashed by her cubby and Michael staring at her with a log half-given to Calcifer, who had to reach over and take it himself. Gareth, with his wide stride, moved towards her, stretching out his hand.

"I'm not sure if I ought to bow to you," he said, "but we shake hands in our land." As he took hers and did so, he added, "Thank you for putting up with us. When things calm down, I'm sure Megan would be happy to have you visit us again, if she's willing enough to let there  _be_ an 'us' again."

"You're leaving? Now?" Sophie stammered, moving past her shame over her unbecoming display into genuine surprise.

Mari lifted her hands, and Sophie automatically lifted her up into a hug while Gareth answered in the affirmative. Over the girl's shoulder, Sophie saw Howl give her a half-smile and a shrug.

Looking away, she turned to Gareth. "It isn't because of...me, is it? How I acted?"

"Oh, no. Howell figured out the entrance a few hours ago. We packed and stuck around til you came back."

"Oh. Oh, well, thank you for waiting," she babbled, hugging Mari tighter now. "Take care, Mari. Listen to your father, all right?"

"Okay," she answered as Sophie set her on the floor. The child looked unhappy, but she knew nothing of how potentially permanent this separation might be. They would not meet again at least until after Midsummer Day, and who knew what that would bring.

Neil, surprisingly enough, was the one who worked to dispel her secret fears. He kissed her hand in an overt attempt to suit her world, which made her bite back a smile. Mari pranced over to her uncle, and Neil motioned Sophie to bend down.

"Don't worry," he whispered, though he seemed a little morose. "I know how the fairy tales work, too. If Uncle Howell's the supposed hero of this story, destroying the Witch and all that, you'll either be his damsel in distress or his heroine, but either way you win him."

"Well, how lovely! Thank you, Neil!" Sophie cried, stretching her lips into an unnatural grin as she shook his hand. She thought she would die of embarrassment. A young boy, telling her the fate of her romantic troubles which she had hoped she had kept too discreet for others to notice, was too much for her. She needed to cut up another suit. It had been rather freeing, if only in the moment.

At that moment, Neil wrapped his arms around Sophie. She hugged him back, but he stayed a little longer than the typical hug generally lasts. She patted his back, but the hint was not enough for him. Her smile grew more and more strained as she looked around for help.

Gareth grabbed him by the collar and pulled him off, making the boy stagger and groan.

"You're turning my boy into a Casanova," Gareth grumbled to Howl, who stopped chattering with Mari in Welsh to reply wryly, "Gareth, I applaud you. I didn't think you were capable of allusions."

Sophie waited for the inevitable tension, but instead both men broke into reluctant but accepting grins, clasping hands. She wondered when they had become so agreeable. She wondered what else she had missed.

Howl then spoke in a low voice to Gareth, who turned grave and nodded. "Got it," he said. "I'll tell her. You two ready now?" he called to his children.

"Yeah," they said, grabbing their bags and rolling bags.

"Good luck," Howl called as he turned the door to a new grey color. "Keep as much to yourselves as possible. Keep the interaction with others to a minimum. And keep away from Wales till after Midsummer Day."

"Good luck to you too," Gareth said, looking meaningfully at the wizard. "And not just with your curse."

Both men glanced at Sophie, who reddened to a darker shade than her hair as she raised her hand in a half-wave and turned away to get started on dinner again.

_Oh yes_ , Sophie thought as she sulked.  _Howl does need help, with such a temperamental cleaning lady._

"I can't properly do anything until I get something else settled first," Howl said in a quiet voice, but Sophie strained her ears and could hear it.

She paused in her work before quickly resuming. Did that mean he was waiting for after Midsummer Day, and then he would kick her out when it was safe?

Sophie hated herself as she felt her heart plummet towards her stomach. This was precisely what she had hoped for. She was successful in putting distance between her and Howl. She was getting out before her feelings got too serious. This was good. This was great! She had done something right for once.

When had she become so pathetic?

Masking her emotions, she turned back towards the door, waving again to the family as they moved through the door, calling, "Godspeed!" to them before the door closed behind them.

It was quiet for all of ten seconds before Calcifer cried, "Finally!"

"You've done well," Howl condescended, smirking at the hearth.

"I did fantastic! Do you realize I tried to be quiet as much as possible so I didn't scare them more than necessary? And I had to let those two devils keep poking me, because I couldn't yell at them! I'm never doing this again, Howell Jenkins! The next time they come, I'll flare up and tell them the rules of this place!"

"Very well, blueface. Here's another log."

"They'll be safe in this France place, won't they?" Michael said.

Howl nodded. "The Witch has a very limited influence in that world. They ought to be fine. As for us, I'm not sure if we will be, considering how dinner looks tonight."

Sophie looked bemusedly at the bowl, only to gasp and groan at the sight of whatever vile substance was bubbling in it.

"What is that?" she cried, and Michael and Howl came over to look while Calcifer shouted, "Bring it this way so I can see!"

"It appears you were in such distressed spirits that it seeped into the cooking," Howl sighed. "Put a bit more anger into it, and you might have some weedkiller here."

"Oh, be quiet," she hissed, shoving the bowl towards him. "You make dinner, then!"

As she stomped away, Howl called, "Any chance you'll behave rationally soon?"

"No!" she shot back before properly processing his question, going towards her cubby.

"Someone's at the door!" Calcifer cried, making them all stop and listen. The only sound was the crackling of the logs in the hearth, as well as their own shallow breaths. There was no knock.

"The Witch?" Michael said, his voice going high.

"No, but it's been in contact with the Witch. I can sense her magic."

"Everyone stay back," Howl demanded, grabbing Sophie and pulling her towards Michael as he nodded towards Calcifer.

With breathless trepidation, Howl opened the door.


	22. In Which There are Changes Seen and Unseen

Howl was shoved back as Whoever It Was forced its way in.

"A hobbit?" Michael whispered aloud as Whoever It Was came into their line of sight.

"Too tall to be a hobbit, and perhaps not humanlike enough," Sophie whispered back, thinking of any offensive spells Howl had taught her. The creature certainly did not seem humanlike, hobbled as it was and covered with shawls and blankets.

"Is this Wizard Howl's castle?" the thing ventured, a voice raspy and slightly feminine said before hacking a cough.

Howl made his way from behind the door, closing it a little. "May I help you?"

"Hmph!" they heard the voice grunt, and Howl jumped away as a large stick swung in his direction. One of the shawls fell and revealed a very old lady, gnarled hands gripping the stick as she tottered in. "So you're Wizard Howl, are you?"

"I beg your pardon, madame, but I-"

"Don't play at that!" she shrieked, not unlike a banshee. "This is all your fault, anyhow!" Her eyes flashed something awful, and Howl closed his mouth with an almost audible clack. Sophie wondered if he was as reminded of Mrs. Pentstemmon as she was, although the late tutor was never so visibly emotional.

Nevertheless, irked old women could be rather intimidating.

The woman made her way through the room, and her eyes landed on Sophie. "There you are!" she cried. "I thought the spell was all wrong after all."

"Er," said Sophie, as the woman clasped her shoulders.

"You've always been so good at helping people, Sophie. Let me stay here a little while. I'm not speaking to  _him_ ," the woman said, watery yellow eyes glaring at a bewildered Howl. "He dragged us all into his own mess. If I die of a heart attack, it's all his fault!"

"Um, all right?" Sophie said, a little too befuddled to make any inquiries.

"I-Do I smell food? I am hungry. I haven't eaten anything since last night. Everything's too hard for me. You'd be amazed at the troubles old women face."

"Make yourself at home," Sophie stuttered. "I'll make you some soup, the kind that's not weedkiller."

She looked towards Howl, but he had disappeared.  _He must have slithered out,_  Sophie thought,  _but that ought to mean that this woman's not a danger to us, though the way she's acting doesn't help her case._ She feared the woman was...missing a few cards in the deck, as they say.

Michael helped the woman towards the hearth, the latter saying, "You're Martha's beau, aren't you? She's very fond of you. She's been disappointed that the both of you haven't been able to meet in a couple days. Treat her well, all right?"

Sophie was just about to follow them and ask how she knew Martha and herself when Howl entered the room again. His eyes flickered towards hers, and he said, "I just checked. It looks like the Witch hasn't followed her here. We should be safe. I don't understand what she's doing here, though. Most people run away from magic after they've been cursed. They rarely run to the house of a wizard with a notorious reputation."

"I'm not sure she's quite all here," she answered in a hushed voice, tapping her own head. "That was rather foolish of her, though. I-"

Someone knocked on the shop door, but the knocking was more like banging. Howl disappeared for a minute to open the door. Martha, Mrs. Fairfax, and the dog poured into the castle, saw Sophie, and quickly hugged her before saying, "Is she here?"

"What is going on?"

"Blast it!" panted Martha as the dog ran in, then Mrs. Fairfax. "We realized she was gone and we had to use a searching spell on her. She must have woken up at the crack of dawn. She's gotten more stupid with age! Can Wizard Howl take off the spell?"

"I-I don't know. Can you?" Sophie called to Howl, who was locking the door.

Martha whirled round, apparently oblivious to his presence before. The first thing she said was, leaning and whispering to Sophie, "Well, he is very handsome. I approve in that regard, dear Sophie." Then she said to Howl, "She's not at all herself, and I'm not talking about just physically, either. You must help her."

"Very well," said Howl, which surprised Sophie. He was not a bad man, not really, but she had expected more whining or bargaining or resistance from him, or at least a witty comment. He must have been feeling very guilty indeed, if the woman's curse was truly a result of her connection with him.

 _Wait_...

They all walked to the hearth, where the woman was wielding the poker at Calcifer, who shouted, "Not again!" The dog tried gently to lean on her to get her away from the annoyed fire demon, but he seemed nervous as to how much weight would send her toppling over.

"Lettie," Martha said carefully, "let's get Howl to take off your spell, all right?"

"No," the old woman snapped, sending them all into a state of surprise. "If you take off the spell, and I go out, the Witch'll see that I'm pretty-"

 _Lettie, you might want to work on your vanity_ , thought Sophie.

"-and will know that Howl removed my curse, and Howl and pretty girls is not a combination that makes the Witch happy. Look how she's been trying to get at poor Sophie!"

"Er, I'm not really that..." Sophie began, but most of the company was more amazed that this seemed such a logical argument, considering the state Lettie was in.

Howl frowned and said, "You can stay here, although it's no more safe than Mrs. Fairfax's home. We won't let her come at you again." He reached out and made a tugging motion.

Lettie's lips were firmly set and her spell remained on.

Howl tried another motion this time, and Lettie still kept the spell on.

After some time, Howl finally gave up, though he did say, "I can see your stubbornness does run in the family, Sophie dear."

"Lettie's always been bolder, but I've always been more set in my ways," Sophie replied, only slightly amused after the unseen tug-of-war.

Calcifer peeked out and looked at Lettie. "I don't like you," he said, "but we might as well try and get that curse off of you somewhat. Otherwise, you'll lose your head a little. Or, better yet, you'll get a heart attack and die."

Sophie and Martha shot each other alarmed looks, but the idea of Lettie dying of a heart attack still seemed far too odd a concept to infuse them with much terror.

"Oh, fine," Lettie humphed. "Just a few years off, though, or at least restore my health, because I-oof!"

She tilted back a bit as Howl gave one good yank, and her deeply-set wrinkles began to stop drooping quite as much, and her body grew a tad bit thicker and more sturdy. Lettie let out one very long sigh.

"I do feel better," she said, "and I thank you for it."

"You should be good as new now," Howl told her.

Now that the danger was gone, Martha fully relaxed and said, "You should have heard yourself, Lettie. You babbled on so much that I thought Mrs. Fairfax-oh," she cut herself off upon remembering that the woman stood at her right.

"What about me, dear?" Mrs. Fairfax asked, completely innocent.

"Nothing," Martha replied, but her thumbs were not spinning.

Sophie felt someone help her into a chair, realizing it was Howl when his voice, lighthearted and false, sounded near her ear. "Well, ladies, would you mind please explaining to us what's happened? I think Sophie is a little overwhelmed, and that takes a lot to do her in."

"I'm fine," she said as her remaining family looked at her. "I'm just a little, er, well, it's been one of those days."

"You haven't had 'one of those days' until you've felt your arthritis kicking in," Lettie replied, though she hobbled over and took a seat next to her once Howl moved out of the way. "But I can't imagine how surprising this must be for you, dear Sophie."

Martha wrapped her arms around Sophie. "It is so good to see you, Sophie! Please don't be too worried. We're all right now."

Sophie gripped onto her youngest sister while she held Lettie's hand gingerly, disturbed by the protruding veins and wrinkled flesh. "Tell me everything. Now. Please."

"I ran into the Witch last night outside of Mrs. Fairfax's," Lettie said, her mature, crackly voice impossible to get used to. "She wanted to use us-me, Martha, Mrs. Fairfax-to get to you. And by getting to you, it'd get to  _him_."

Sophie flinched, whispering, "Howl?"

"She wouldn't want to get me head-on right now," Howl said loudly, announcing he had heard them. "I gave her a hard blow last time. She'd want to get me when I don't have my head straight."

Lettie gave no indication she'd heard him. "The others got me in the house before the Witch aged me so much I'd be nothing but bones. I shot a spell at her, you see, and it got her ire up. You wouldn't think it, but Mrs. Fairfax has very powerful defensive magic. She's been using jars upon jars of honey lately to keep us safe in her cottage. She did study with Mrs. Pentstemmon, I suppose, so she must be rather powerful in her own way. She's not good with offensive magic, though. Oh heavens, I am famished."

Martha left Sophie to go to an anxious but kindly unobtrusive Michael, letting him hold her as they whispered to each other. Mrs. Fairfax chattered on to Howl and, after getting past her shock at the fire demon, spoke to Calcifer as well as she made non-weedkiller soup. Calcifer seemed to like this. He had felt rather ignored lately.

Sophie did not notice this. She was holding on to Lettie's hands, saying, "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry, Lettie."

"It's hardly your fault, Sophie," Lettie scoffed. "It's Howl's. He's the one who involved you-and then us-in this whole mess." The coldness in her voice was not one Sophie was accustomed to hearing from her sister.

"No," Sophie whispered quickly. "Believe me, I know you have a right to be angry, but Howl has had a hard time, too-"

"I did offer, Miss Hatter, a way to remove the curse," Howl said, and this time Sophie could not tell if he had heard her whispers or not. One thing she did notice was that he was not his usual self. It had been a long time since she had seen him fighting back anger.

"I shouldn't be cursed in the first place!" Lettie squawked. "And this is not just about what you've done to me! Martha and Mrs. Fairfax would have been done in too if we hadn't been keeping on our toes! Not to mention poor Fanny..."

Lettie did not cry. She was past the age of tears, though her heart broke all the same.

Mrs. Fairfax swooped in the second silence fell. "Now, dears, let us all calm ourselves. It's been a trying day."

"All of you, please make yourselves at home. And I do apologize for this, Miss Hatter," Howl said, bowing with a tight grin. "I should be back tomorrow morning."

Sophie stood and watched him go to the door. It opened to blackness that was not caused by night.

"Howl, no," she said.

"Don't worry, Miss Nose," he said with a wave of his hand, not bothering to look back. "Listen to Calcifer. He'll let you know if the Witch comes near."

He closed the door on them all.

Sophie stood for a minute before moving towards the door.

"Sophie, don't even bother going after him!" Lettie cried, creakily getting to her feet and grabbing her with trembling hands. "That heartless man doesn't care that he's taking us all down with him! We'll stay here since it's probably the safest option right now, but we'll all leave soon, all right? Stop being so nice! It's just pulling you down faster!"

"I'm not very nice to him at all," Sophie said in quiet surprise. "But I'm sorry, Lettie. You all should be safe in here, or at least as safe as you can be at the moment. I need to go to Howl."

She kissed her younger sister's weathered cheek before going into Wales.

Sophie had forgotten how much she disliked this world. Those deuced  _cars_. Not to mention, she normally did not have pleasant things happen to her at night here, considering the last time she was alone in Wales.

But she was not alone. Howl was here, if she could catch up to him.

With the darkness of Rivendell, it was difficult, in the fading twilight, to see where he had gone. It was only when she heard snarled profanity that she managed to pinpoint that he was in the garage. There she found him, kicking some boxes out of the way as he hopped into his blasted car.

"Will you wait just a moment?" Sophie called, marching over to him.

"No," Howl snapped just as he shut the door. After a moment he jumped out again. "Sophie?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't do anything foolish, like become an incompetent drunk again."

He put his right hand over his heart and raised his left. "I solemnly swear that I will not beg Sophie Hatter, nor any other person residing in my home, to guide me up the stairs, care for my hangovers, make me food, or guide me to the bathroom when I get queasy. Happy? You can run along now."

"I'm not a bloody dog, Howl. I won't come and go at your beck and call."

"I know. Dogs aren't so bloody stubborn, either!"

"I understand why you'd be angry that Lettie said those things but-"

"What? Angry at Lettie?" Howl's hard look faded a little. "I'm not angry at her at all. I'm angry at-"

He cut himself off, moving to sit in the car again.

"I'm coming with you," Sophie said, moving to the other seat.

"You hate going for a drive."

"I believe I know that, thank you!"

"Then why come along?"

"Because someone needs to show you that they are aware of your little secret: That you do have a heart, even if you hide it most of the time, and it isn't quite where it ought to be."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he only got into the car. Sophie went to the passenger door, but it was locked.

He started the car.

Frustrated at him and Lettie and furious at the Witch, Sophie found a good way to release her emotions: She went to the back, where she knew Howl would see her in the mirror, and kicked the car the best she could.

It did not work as she had hoped. There was hardly a dent and she felt her ankle crack slightly instead.

Howl jumped out of the car, not bothering to shut off the engine, shouting, "What the devil are you doing?"

Sophie coughed at the fumes, but she gave him her best glare. "You ought to be happy I don't have that weedkiller, or else I'd throw it at you," she shouted.

"Go ahead! For God's sake, Sophie, stop being so nice and say what you really think-"

"You think I'm doing this because I'm too  _nice_?" she screamed over the roar of the engine. "I could kill the Witch for what she did to my family! What she's done to all of us, and Mrs. Pentstemmon, and...everyone! I could kill her myself! But it's not as if you intentionally dragged us into this, so stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself!"

The smoke made her cough again, as did all her screaming-it was hard to scream past the lump in her throat-and so Howl turned off the car before coming back to her. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but at least he was listening.

"I..." She was still half-shouting, and so she started again, this time in a quieter voice. "If you have to feel so sorry for yourself, at least  _talk_ to someone about it."

Sophie paused then, but Howl didn't bother interrupting. As her embarrassment sank in yet again, making her all the more frustrated, this time she properly pushed her anger towards its rightful place-towards the thought of the Witch-so she could speak as calmly and properly as she could.

"I won't entirely complain if you speak to me about it," Sophie said loftily. "But in all seriousness, I can point this at myself and say all this was my fault-with my family-because I decided to go with you."

This time Howl did almost speak. Sophie continued before he could.

"But it's all the Witch's fault, really. There's no use pointing fingers anywhere else. I can't imagine what you're actually feeling, beneath all your outward stupidity. There's your family and maybe your friends to worry about, and then my family attacks you on top of everything. Then there's Wizard Suliman and the prince...Any normal person with their heart in the right place would snap. I'm surprised Calcifer never puttered out on you from a heart attack.

"So, what I suppose I'm saying is I'm sorry for what Lettie said, and, um, I don't blame you. Even if you do irritate me as an unclean slither-outer who can't speak truth to save his life."

Sophie kept glaring, although her gaze, to her exasperation, could not sufficiently stay on him. It was here that Howl finally spoke.

"And you're a busy, nosy, fool-hearted girl." His voice was odd, a bit like Lettie's new raspiness. "Now we both know each other's faults."

She managed to keep her eyes on him for more than two seconds, and saw that he was not about to leave again.

"I don't..." He paused. "I don't like getting angry. It's...not good. I thought I ought to go away. Before you all see it. I wasn't mad at your sister. I was mad at... _her_. And myself. I don't like talking about this. Did you want to go inside and get some coffee? I know where they hide the key."

His lighthearted look was back. Apparently she'd get no more out of him tonight, but she thought it was a start. "No, thank you. I ought to get back to my family."

"Of course."

She took a few steps, then gave him a look.

He laughed a little. "Don't worry. I'm coming. But answer one question first."

Her eyes narrowed with wariness. "What?"

"Of course you'd want to stay with your family, so why did you come after me?"

She rolled her eyes a little and gave a small smile as he offered his arm. "Because I'm too nice."


	23. In Which Howl and Sophie Try Out Honesty

Of course, all good things come to an end. Aside from a little chat they had that night just when everyone else went to bed, Sophie found nothing had changed greatly in her and Howl's relationship. He began teasing her just the same, and she made some dry or hotheaded comment back. Their banter had returned. Lettie confided in Sophie that she was very glad of it; after she went after Howl that time, Lettie had been certain Sophie was in love with Howl.

"I'm so pleased to know you're not," she sighed, helping Sophie prepare lunch when Howl was out to see the King. "Imagine-if you had been so fond of him, and he with you, you would be walking around just  _asking_  for the Witch to get you!"

"The Witch is already after me," Sophie replied, pouring the gravy. "Michael?"

He had been teaching Martha a spell. Neither were paying any mind to the sisters, and so it took a few shouts and Lettie's croaking voice to get their attention. Michael jumped up guiltily, as if waiting for the older Hatters' wrath for spending so much time with their youngest sister.

Sophie snorted a little, but smiled. "Is there any chance you can send word to Howl to pick up more ingredients? With so many people living here, he can't expect us all to survive on his pigeon diet."

"I can go myself, Sophie," Michael said, getting a disguise.

"I'll go with you," Martha said, joining him.

Before Lettie or Sophie could say anything, Michael quickly said, "Please stay here, Martha! You're safer in the castle."

Martha looked to the hearth for guidance.

"Everyone should be all right, for at least a little while. The Witch probably attacked you Hatters in a temper tantrum, since we moved the castle. She's made her point," Calcifer said sagely, sinking onto a nice pile of logs. "And her attacks on Howl's weak old heart haven't worked as well as she'd hoped."

Was it Sophie's imagination, or did Calcifer wink at her?

"Are we listening to a ball of fire regarding our safety?" Lettie demanded.

"Just make sure you only shop in Vale End," Sophie told Martha and Michael, who left hurriedly.

Lettie's faded eyes meant to look disbelievingly at Sophie, but they appeared more as if they were glaring. "Why did you let them go?"

"I trust Calcifer," Sophie said, raising a brow.

"But isn't Calcifer connected to Howl in some way?" Lettie scowled.

Sophie put on her best older sister look-specifically, the one that more or less said, "I understand, but you are being rude." Verbally, she declared, "Lettie, Howl's apology to you was as heartfelt as I've ever seen from him when we returned from Wales. What else do you want him to do?"

"I want him to hurry up and give himself to the Witch."

"You can't mean that."

Calcifer, afraid he might not get the extra log Sophie had promised him earlier if the girls started fighting, cried, "We're not trying to put your lives in danger-the opposite, actually. Michael and Martha should be fine in Vale End. And besides, it was obvious even to me that they wanted to get some time by themselves. If they didn't, they'd start snogging right in front of me!"

The idea of their little sister "snogging" with a boy was so repulsive that the Hatters, for once, lapsed into deep mortified silence. Calcifer cackled at them.

Mrs. Fairfax, thankfully, appeared some time later, giving Calcifer a bit of a honeycomb. Sophie, returning from her mortification, thought he might be getting a little spoiled as she dipped down and gave him a log as well.

"Well, dears, I have successfully summoned my honey," Mrs. Fairfax said, carrying a basket full of jars. "Though I must say I was unable to get very much of it. Such a shame. Well, I dare say we will only be here a few more weeks, so I can't complain. Oh, but it's such a shame we can't enjoy the nice June weather! I am glad you let me help in the shop, though, Sophie. It helps with the homesickness. Can you believe I've never been so far from my cottage for longer than a day? That is, since Mr. Fairfax passed. Before that, he and I went to Kingsbury sometimes to see a show, and we used to call on Mrs. Pentstemmon. Oh, those bygone days..."

Whatever sympathy Sophie and Lettie might have been prepared to pour upon this woman, who was rather like an aunt to them, faded when Mrs. Fairfax continued steamrolling ahead, fixing up the place to make room for her honey. "Ah, well, we mustn't live in the past. There are present issues to tend to, like where in heaven's name is that dog?"

Mrs. Fairfax actually deemed this a good spot to pause, and the girls exchanged glances to confirm that Mrs. Fairfax did indeed mean for them to jump in and answer.

"He usually stays by my side," Lettie said, concern showing in her features now that she noticed his absence. "I wonder where he could have gotten to?"

"Michael may have let him out," Sophie said.

"Poor man," sighed Fanny.

"Who, Michael?" Sophie said.

"No, the dog. I suppose he's safest of us all; there's not much more the Witch can do to him now. I do wish he'd stop being stubborn and let us turn him back. With Wizard Howl, it would be as easy as pie. He-the dog, I mean-is a bit like a certain someone, perhaps," Mrs. Fairfax said with a twinkle in her eye as she glanced at a "hmph!"-ing Lettie.

Sophie gaped for a while before sighing. Even this display of exasperation, dramatic in the eyes of those who knew her in quieter days, was nothing compared to what Howl would have done. "I wish someone bothered to tell us about these things," she said curtly, setting down the last plate with a clank.

"Oh, I am sorry, Sophie," Lettie said. She seemed a little like her usual self now. "Things have been awfully chaotic. I didn't even think. But please don't tell Howl. The dog-man doesn't wish to him to know."

"This is awfully silly. Calcifer, can't you remove it?"

"Only if you take care of a certain other thing," Calcifer said meaningfully, flaring a little and making a popping sound as he devoured the honeycomb.

Sophie looked at him blankly before flushing, grumbling, "It's been a little busy. Mrs. Fairfax, did this dog-man ever tell you his name?"

"Why, no, I don't think so. I-"

"Surely you didn't always call him 'dog'!"

Lettie jumped in after having a spoonful of pudding. "Surely not! We called him 'sir.'"

"And 'dear'," added Mrs. Fairfax. "And 'you' when he was being very doglike and disobedient."

Sophie felt bad for the dog-man indeed. Even more so when she heard scratching, and she ducked over to open the door. In bounded the dog-man, who ducked up the stairs and whined by the sink. Lettie got up to her feet with a groan.

"I've got him, dear," Mrs. Fairfax said, but before she could take a step-

"No, I've got to stretch my legs a bit. Would you like a bowl of water, sir?"

The dog let out a rumble that sounded suspiciously like an affirmation.

Lettie filled a bowl, then winced as she sank to the ground, holding onto the sink as she set it on the ground and rose back up. The dog, though panting, did not immediately drink, but instead leaned against Lettie to give her added fortification before licking her hand of some crumbs and then gulping down his water.

Sophie watched this interaction with new interest, and she stepped up into the kitchen. "Good morning," she said to him, feeling a little silly. "I hear you're actually a gentleman?"

The dog stopped drinking and looked up at her with baleful eyes.

"We can help, I'm sure," she said, kneeling beside him. "We've got quite a few witches and wizards living here, now. All of us together ought to help you somehow."

The dog-man sulked even more and let out a low, pathetic grumble. It made her think briefly of what Howl might sound like as a dog.

"Please, it'll be the best idea," Lettie said, her crackly voice gentle. "We can help."

The dog-man looked balefully at her, then let out a heavy sigh.

"Good. Once Howl comes back-"

The dog-man growled. Mrs. Fairfax chimed in, "My dear, you could try it."

Sophie blinked up at her.

"You have the power of speech. My dear late husband used to say the same thing to me, but I've never had the magic to prove it. You do. It couldn't hurt to try."

Sophie swallowed. She never tried bespelling someone else before. She always used her magic on objects and sometimes herself. She hadn't even known she  _had_ magic until last month.

"Well," she said, "um."

But the dog-man looked at her with a panting, cheerful look, apparently much more comfortable with her deactivating the spell than Howl.

Sophie's heart pounded.  _Don't muck it up,_  she begged her powers-and herself. "All right, all right." She placed her hands against the dog-man's torso, her fingers sliding against the rough fur. It had been a long time since he'd had a bath. She breathed in deep, then stared hard at him, using her most commanding voice. "All right, body, shift back to the man you're supposed to be. Come on. Be a man again. Don't you miss standing on two legs and using thumbs? Come on, then. Shift back to the man you're supposed to be."

She said it several times, but the dog-man remained. Lettie and Mrs. Fairfax tried using a bit of honey to try and break down the magical resistance as Sophie spoke, but the dog-man only yawned and laid down on the ground.

"Well," Mrs. Fairfax sighed. "Doggone it."

She looked around with a sudden smile, but no one paid attention to her pun.

"I'm sorry, sir," murmured Lettie, stretching her hand out. The dog-man leapt to his feet and placed his head under her hand, allowing her to scratch behind his ear. "I suppose you'll have to rely on Wizard Howl after all."

The dog-man leaned against her, as if to reassure her.

"Well, let's clean up the honey," Mrs. Fairfax said to Sophie. "We'll break it eventually."

Sophie nodded, pursing her lips as she helped mop up the patterns of honey scattered around the dog-man. "Sorry," she murmured to the dog-man, who leaned against her then as she scratched his cheek.

Lettie said she'd go out to the garden to stretch, grabbing a cane she'd swiped once she'd grown old and walking to the door. The dog-man got up immediately and trotted after her. Once the door shut, Mrs. Fairfax said, "The poor dear. She's awfully disappointed."

"Howl will be able to fix it," Sophie said distantly.

"Well, I'm sure," Mrs. Fairfax replied, "but she really didn't want to owe him anything. Our little gentleman knew this. Although sometimes," she added thoughtfully, "I think he just doesn't want her to have a reason to feel grateful to Wizard Howl."

Sophie thought about this silently.

"Sir Calcifer," Mrs. Fairfax continued, "Wizard Howl ought to be able to break the curse, oughtn't he?"

Calcifer had been snoozing in the hearth, exhausted from heating so many showers, meals, and so on. He blearily opened an eye, blue flames popping. "Sure," he grumbled. "I doubt he's even noticed the curse. We've been busy. But he'll peel it off."

"Good. I knew he could, you know. Any pupil of Mrs. Pentstemmon ought to have significant powers, but he was her most prized student, you know, not that she'd tell him. I'm sure he figured it out, though. Several of us went into more domestic roles once we graduated from our schooling, but he was one of the few that made something of himself. And the boy surely isn't as wicked as those daft rumors suggest. Mrs. Pentstemmon wouldn't have put up with something like that. You know, I'm so glad we've got that garden in the back, Sophie. It's a lovely little place. Plenty of bees. There's been some hives forming near the base of the castle, and they're starting to trust me enough to borrow some of their honey. I'm glad I can keep it up. Oh, I  _do_ miss home, though..."

Mrs. Fairfax went on and on, and Sophie found herself feeling very tired. Calcifer chimed in a few times, and soon Mrs. Fairfax and him were engaged in a passionate discussion of various types of magic. Normally, Sophie would be a little intrigued. But she only went into the shop once she put Mrs. Fairfax in charge of the , closing the door to the castle behind her. She went to the shop door and turned the sign to OPEN. But the day in Vale End was sticky, the weather thick and pregnant with rain. Few people were shopping for flowers on such a day as this. She watered the flowers and then sat in a chair by the register, leaning on her elbows.

But the silence was nice. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scents of the shop. She was glad Howl and Calcifer had managed a way to get this shop up and running. She liked selling the flowers. Really, it was lovely. Granted, at least back at the hat shop, there was always something to keep her busy...

After a few minutes, she sighed. This was ridiculous. She felt moody and lonely and yet she craved quiet. She wanted the silence, yet she wanted to sell her flowers. She was exhausted, but antsy. Sophie felt like a million contradictions lay within her, tugging her this way and that.

The bell above the shop door chimed, and immediately she perked up, a smile plastered on her face. But it fell when she realized it was only Howl.

"Just dodged the rain, I expect," he exclaimed, a bit out of breath. "I don't need to catch a cold on top of everything else." His eyes met hers, and she straightened a little. Immediately, he broke into a grin. "Ah, Sophie! You're manning the shop now?"

"Not too hard, with no customers," she said dryly. As if in answer, the storm cresting above them let out a threatening grumble.

"Is Michael out, then?"

"Yes. He and Martha went out to grab a few things."

"You know, I thought I saw Martha out there with someone, but I didn't pay much attention. She ought to wear a disguise when she's out, too, to be safe. Ah, well. Can't hurt to be out a bit."

By now, drops of rain were tapping on the roof and splattering on the window boxes outside.

"I hope they don't get rained on," Sophie murmured, peering at the stem of a nearby violet. Its stem was turning a little brown. "Hold strong and bloom," she ordered softly, giving it a teeny bit more water.

To her surprise, Howl was leaning against the counter near her, peering at the flower. "I don't think it's convinced," he said. Sophie felt his warmth, enough so that it made her own neck and cheeks warm. She subtly moved back a step.

"It'll be fine," she said a little shortly. She knew she hadn't put enough "oomph" into her words. "Why were you in Vale End? I thought you were out to see the King?"

"Well, Ms. Nose, I wanted to try out some new seven-league boots." He set a small sack on the counter, pulling out two boots which oughtn't fit in the bag. "For those who aren't familiar with them, the boots can be hard to stop. These have a sort of brake built into them. One boot makes you go, while the other makes you stop. You still need balance, but it's easier than other boots on the market."

"Huh. Not too bad," Sophie sniffed, "now get those shoes off my counter."

"Of course," he said. "My deepest apologies, Sophie." He bowed and took the shoes off the table, making her roll her eyes.

She thought he'd go inside, but he didn't. He continued leaning against the counter as she got out a damp little towel and scrubbed where the boots had been. The rain came down hard now, staccato pecks on the window punctuated by the occasional rumble of thunder.

"I love summer storms, don't you?" Howl asked. "Nothing so relaxing as that. Makes you want to curl up with a good book."

"Why don't you do so?"

"Shunning my company, Sophie?"

"When don't I?"

" _Cariad_ , you ought to be in such a good mood! You're doing your favorite thing!"

She looked down at the spot she'd been furiously scrubbing.

"And I've done so much reading already for the past several weeks, at libraries and in my room. I haven't read so much since my thesis."

She threw down the damp towel. "You man the shop, then," she scowled, scooting down from the stool.

Howl laughed pleadingly. "Now, Sophie-"

"'Now, Sophie,'" she mocked, making her voice high and whining. She set her glare on the violet. "Get rid of that brown on your stem this instant! It's not becoming!" Then she headed toward the castle door.

"Wait wait wait," Howl said, breaking his teasing façade and catching her on the other side of the counter. He didn't touch her, but his arm stretched toward her nonetheless. He curled his fingers into a loose grasp at nothing, then let his hand fall to his side. She stubbornly looked beside him, at the doorframe.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. She hadn't expected the honesty in his glassy eyes. "Talk about what?"

"Why you're so unhappy."

She flushed, angry-but not quite at him. "I'm fine."

"It's time for my second experiment of the day," he declared, loose smile back on his lips. "I've been told I'm not a very good listener. I'm curious to see if that's true. Give me a try?"

Sophie eyed him. This didn't seem like him at all. She eyed the door again, then sighed. "I don't...like to talk about my feelings. I mean, I grumble, but that's more to vent than anything else."

"Try to out-complain me, then," Howl urged, still smiling his overly-bright smile. "It's your own experiment."

This was becoming an uncomfortably vulnerable moment. She shifted, eyeing the door again.

But she really didn't want to go back in.

Eyes focused on the doorframe, she murmured very softly, "I'm glad to have my family here."

He was silent.

She dared a glance up at him, but he was watching her, listening. There wasn't exactly compassion on his face-he usually didn't express that often, though she knew he cared about more than he let on-but his grin was gone, exuberance replaced by curious introspection.

She glanced away, speaking haltingly. "I...I guess I'm just a little tired, that's all. We had your family over, and immediately thereafter my family comes here. I was rather introverted for much of my life, especially once I began working full-time at the shop-my family's shop, that is. It was strange moving in when it was just you, Michael, and Calcifer, but now there's just been so many people."

She paused, unsure of how to continue, her face and eyes burning. There was a lump in her throat.

"I do feel a little outnumbered now," Howl said after a moment.

Sophie kept her eyes away from him, but breathed a soft little laugh. "I suppose so." She paused again, smiling a little. "And you claim you were surrounded by women before."

"No other moment in my life will ever top this one."

She let out a short breathy laugh again, easing the odd lump in her throat.

They lapsed into silence, until Howl prodded, "What else?"

She flushed a darker hue. How did he know she had more that was bothering her? Was it a guess, or could he tell? She saw why he hated being honest. It felt like she was ripping of shreds of herself and handing it to him, saying, "Here. Take a look. What do you think?" She never thought herself a liar, but she was beginning to think it had been a long time since she'd really opened up to anyone. Before coming to the moving castle, she'd tried to appease everyone, especially once her father died. She needed to be strong and find purpose again. She dove into her work and acquiesced to the engagement, hoping she would make things as easy as possible for Fanny and her sisters. It wasn't that she outright  _lied_ , but it had been a long time since she'd said what made her unhappy and explained why and bared herself to another person.

Even once she'd come to the castle, she'd hidden her nerves about breaking off her engagement and leaving home for the first time in her life by snapping at Howl, who'd helped her, and cleaning the place so much that she felt she might choke on the fumes of sanitizer. The snapping felt good; she could express herself more than she had in a long time with her family. But it became another safeguard, another wall she constructed to hide her thoughts.

Abruptly she realized part of the reason why she felt so muddled.

"I suppose...If you judge me, I am going to cut up all your suits."

"I swear on my heart-"

"I know the truth about you, Howell Jenkins," Sophie pointed out, glaring. "You can't use that anymore."

He amended, more seriously, "I won't judge you."

She swallowed. By God, this was  _humiliating_. "I..."  _Kill me now_. "I guess...this is home. Sort of. And. You know. It's the first time I've had one. A home, I mean. Outside of living with my family, obviously."

"I think I understand."

She side-eyed him, ready for a dramatic speech, but he only looked thoughtful. "I loved living on my own in Wales. Once I moved back home once I finished my degree-well, I loved my sister all the same, of course, but it wasn't the same as before I left for uni. I liked having my own flat, and I liked visiting, but it wasn't the same once I moved home and felt like I'd regressed as an adult."

"Yes," Sophie said definitively. "That is  _exactly_  it."

"And you think we have nothing in common," Howl said, smiling. But it wasn't stretched unnaturally. He was still looking at her in that funny way that made her chest tingle.

"What else?" he prodded again.

"I feel useless," she went on. The most embarrassing part was over, after all. Might as well keep venting. "I try not to show it but...I am so afraid for Fanny."

His smile faded entirely. "Of course."

"And I try to be strong but...I'm so frustrated. I've got magic, and I thought that'd make me feel powerful. But instead, I keep realizing how limited I am. I can't save Fanny, not yet anyway. I can't even turn the dog-man back into a human."

"Come again?"

Seeing how alarmed he was, she hastened to explain what she knew of the dog-man-and her failure to break his spell. Howl cursed.

"I missed it! I utterly missed it!" he cried, his hand slamming down on his forehead. He moved toward the door as if to grab hold of the dog immediately, but stopped, sighing. "He won't mind another five minutes, especially since he's not keen on me." Then his face brightened. "But Sophie, do you see? Even the most powerful of wizards makes mistakes."

She snorted. "I've yet to meet the most powerful of wizards."

"Walked into that one, didn't I?" he replied dryly.

She smiled. He smiled back.

"Tell you what," he said, leaning towards her. "How about we get out, the two of us? It's brilliant timing, really. The King asked me to attend a ball. Diplomats from High Norland are coming, and the King wants me around since he's missing a Royal Wizard and a Prince. I was planning on asking you anyway."

Sophie blinked at him. "A ball? At the King's  _palace_?" she squawked. "I couldn't go. Absolutely not. I refuse!"

His face fell. "Why not?"

"Because," she hissed, "there's a Witch out there who's attacked my family, and I saw her before at the palace!"

"She won't come. Security will be heightened with the diplomats there."

"I can't just go to a ball while Fanny's rotting out there in the Waste!"

"Do you think I'd just invite you to a ball and pretend none of this is happening?"

She scowled.

His gaze grew icy. "Ms. Nose, do you have any idea why I've been reading so much lately? I've got  _bags under my eyes_."

He did, too, though he'd hidden it well with some sort of spell. Sophie had seen him carrying several books up and down the stairs as well, delegating some to Michael to read, as well as some to Mrs. Fairfax when she'd offered. When Sophie had asked about them, Howl had said she wouldn't know what to look for, making her feel put out and swept out of the way. Now she knew what it was he was trying to research, or at least had a guess; she softened.

"Besides," he said, a little less curt, "I don't want war on our hands on top of the Witch of the Waste."

"Do you think things are getting so bad?" Sophie asked.

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to say." Despite kicking up a fuss about the job, he was apparently determined to at least try and do it well, despite Sophie knowing he sometimes gave the bare minimum of participation and spells needed to the King.

She bit her lip, wishing she could polish something. "What if I make a fool out of myself?"

"You already survived the King one-on-one, as well as the Witch of the Waste  _and_ Mrs. P. You'll be fine. And I'll be with you," he added, giving her a debonair smile.

But she couldn't let herself give in this easily. He was being so honest, which was making her a little worried. But she decided to exploit it. "Why me?" she demanded, meeting his green-eyed gaze.

Lightning lit up the room, the dark shop flashing with light before the thunder rolled in. Between the sight and sound, Howl had stepped closer and put his hand softly, almost uncertainly, on her cheek. And then, as the last rumble of thunder passed through, he kissed her lips.

Sophie had never been kissed. She stood there, petrified and thrilled and desperately trying to recall whatever romantic stories Lettie and Martha had shared. She was certain she was doing this poorly; she wasn't moving.  _Move, Sophie_! He pulled away, slowly, and then, full of nervous energy, afraid suddenly that that would be the last she'd ever get from someone, from  _him_ , she launched herself onto her tiptoes and met his lips with her own. Except it wasn't at all romantic, teeth clacking as she overshot and half-tumbled into him. She careened back, humiliated, not even able to remember what he tasted like, disgusted that she would even wonder what he tasted like.

And then he followed her, lightning lighting up his face and his peculiar marble eyes. She shuddered suddenly, almost afraid, but it was still him, still Howl, and he didn't mock her nor take out her heart. He only looked at her, with something dark but gentle in his face- _he looked at all the girls like that you know, you're nothing special_ -and kissed her again, softly, teaching her, a finger lightly wrapping around a curl of hair and tucking it behind her ear. The place where he touched her felt aflame as well as ticklish. It was a simple kiss, a gentle kiss, nothing passionate or inappropriate, but her knees threatened to buckle anyway. She leaned against the counter, feeling the ledge dig into her back, her head straining a little from having to tilt her chin up so high for so long. He amended this by taking his hands from her hair and wrapping them around her waist instead, making her yank her lips away to gasp. Before she could protest or even wonder if it was okay that she  _didn't_ want to protest, he set her up on top of the counter, even though it was still a bit damp from her mad cleaning. His lips met hers again, only a little more urgently, but despite all the wicked things he could do and had done to others, things that she couldn't even figure out if she would stop or not, he kept it slow, hands on her back, almost languidly playing with the end of her braid.

This was dangerous. This wasn't her. This wasn't  _Howl_. He was sure he'd try to seduce any other woman, and she was sure he wouldn't be so honest with her since he ought to have known she wouldn't- _couldn't, shouldn't-_ let him go further. And if he couldn't do anything indecent men did, she didn't see why he was wasting his time on her.

But despite all she told herself, all she thought she believed about him, she deep down knew that this wasn't just Horrible Howl playing with his new prey. Somehow, she  _trusted_ him. It was absurd, it was stupid, and she'd deserve it if she got her heart broken. But she did. She trusted Howl, or rather Howell Jenkins. The man who'd helped his sister, secretly smuggled books late at night to try and find a way to save her stepmother without falling into the Witch's plan, cuddled with his niece, listened to her, gave her a place to stay, gave her a  _home_...

She'd always thought she was decently smart. Not anymore.

Eventually, one or both of them pulled away, their breaths just slightly heavier than usual.

"Um," she murmured.

"I can't believe you let me do that," Howl breathed, but without any indication that he was teasing her or making light of this. His hand left her back and hip to once again curl a stray hair behind her ear. "What's that color called again?"

"Red-gold," she replied after a moment.

"I'd call it ginger."

"Never ginger."

"Red-gold is a much better word for it," he agreed. And then, almost as if it were against his wishes, a slow, splendid smile broke out on his face. Sophie found it curious; she didn't quite want to look away. But she realized her cheeks hurt; she was mirroring him.

"Um," she said, "the dog. The dog-man."

"Thinking of another man at a time like this?" he asked, but he didn't stop grinning. He took her by the hips and she squeaked like a mouse, grasping his shoulders tightly. He set her down gently, but it took him a moment to let go.

"The dog-man," she said, trying to sound strict and businesslike.

"Might as well close the shop, too."

She heard the flap of the sign flipping over to CLOSED. The rain continued on the roof, thunder now growing a little dim.

This was the absolute last thing she should do. She shouldn't get involved with him. She  _lived_  with him. Her family had gotten caught up in a lot of trouble because of his feud with the Witch. He was a heartbreaker, a scoundrel, a-

A man she could hold her own with. Someone she could speak her mind to, and he in return. Someone who wanted to spend time with her, even when she acted awful in return.

 _This isn't permanent_ , she told herself, keeping her jaw tight to prevent any words from speaking out.  _This was a fluke, a nice little moment we'll both forget about_ -

"Shall we?" Howl said as he returned from the door. He couldn't quite seem to stop smiling, although he shifted back and forth, a nervous energy fueling him. It made her think of Calcifer, his flames dancing and spinning.

Calcifer. What would Howl be like, if he got his heart back? Would he treat her like this? Better? Or would he realize he didn't want to play around anymore, that he wanted something more, something more than he could find in her?

This place was her home, she'd finally realized. But for how much longer?

When he offered her his hand, she didn't take it, only walking ahead resolutely. She didn't need him. She was fine on her own. She'd be fine once he got tired of her.

But she could enjoy the moment, couldn't she?

She touched the door handle and looked back at him. His eyes hadn't shifted from her, and he gave her a deep smile-not a  _wide_ smile, but one that held  _depth_. She couldn't help but give a reluctant, small smile in return.

Yes. Surely it wouldn't be wrong to enjoy the moment.


	24. In Which Sophie Gets a Room

Ten minutes later, Howl finished analyzing the dog-man and smirked at Sophie. "Well, it looks like we've solved why you were unable to break the curse. How did you say it before?"

"'Turn back the man you're supposed to be,' or something of the sort."

"Exactly. It couldn't work, because he's not just one man, but two."

Lettie, who'd been sitting tensely in a chair by Calcifer, snapped to attention. "Two men?"

Howl nodded, all seriousness again. "Calcifer, help me out, will you?"

Calcifer grumbled something, then flared a little, flames snapping and cinders crackling. The static electricity of magic filled the air, making Sophie's skin tingle.

The dog-man's snout wrinkled as he snarled at Howl. "I'm trying to help!" Howl cried, gritting his teeth a little before he muttered something under his breath. He tugged at the air above the dog. The dog-man sneezed at him.

"Please let Howl help you, sir," Lettie tried from her seat in the corner. The dog-man looked at her gloomily. "I'll let him turn me back too if you're good," she added reluctantly. He groaned, then shut his eyes.

A few good tugs and gestures later, the dog-man stretched and shed. Sophie grimaced at the dog fur littering her nice floors. Speaking of cleaning, she ought to clean the bathroom as well. It had been a while, and with all these people...

She knew she was distracting herself. But she had to, otherwise she'd pay too much attention to how Howl looked when he was serious, how the tendons in his neck grew taut and little beads of sweat dotted his skin-

"Oh, for the love of..." She immediately covered her face with her hands.

"Sophie?" Mrs. Fairfax murmured next to her.

"Nothing!" she squeaked, yanking her hands away and focusing specifically on the dog-man, whose claws were stretching out into fingers and whose body became covered with an odd suit, which seemed to smoosh together two outfits in a hodgepodge way, instead of fur. Soon, he no longer was a dog-man, but a human-man. At least, he was more that than dog. As he tremulously got to his two feet, gripping the table for aid, Sophie saw his nose bent and shaped in a jerky way, his eyes different colors, his body muscular in some places and thinnish in others. It wasn't just his suit mishmashed; it was  _him_.

Lettie moved to stand, but Mrs. Fairfax helped him instead. Lettie sat again with a sigh, deep in thought as her wrinkle-surrounded eyes took him in.

"Hallo!" called a voice, gruff and thick, as the castle door opened and shut. Martha and an older man, nearly fifty and wearing a torn tweed suit, appeared up the steps. The man, whom Sophie suspected was a drunkard who begged on the street, unfastened something, and suddenly he became Michael, flinging off a velvet cloak.

"Michael, please don't use that one again," Martha said, breathless with laughter. "The poor store clerks thought I was in some sort of danger!"

"I don't want to be mistaken for your deadbeat father again," Michael agreed with a laugh before turning pink and surveying the full room. "Um."

"Save the flirting for later," Lettie said curtly. "Howl's breaking the dog-man's curse."

"Oh, good!" Martha said, grinning as she stepped beside Lettie's chair. Then she frowned. "Er, Lettie..."

"He's two men in one," Lettie barked. "He'll get sorted out."

"I wasn't saying he was ug...never mind," Martha grumbled. "You're impossible to talk to when you're like this."

Lettie reeled on her. "When I'm like  _what_?"

Sophie stepped in, easily falling into her big-sister role. "Let's keep our voices down so they can work," Sophie said pacifyingly.

Lettie snapped her mouth closed, and Martha rolled her eyes, thumbs reeling around each other.

Howl, meanwhile, hadn't paid much attention to this. He was saying, "-bit more. Sorry for the discomfort."

The dog-man only looked around bewilderedly before Howl called out, "Michael, you're back?"

"Yes!"

"Go get the green packet."

"Which green packet?"

"The one above the hearth."

"Yes, but which  _one_?" Michael asked, face flushed as he searched the shelf.

Mrs. Fairfax went over, surveyed briefly, and plucked a packet with leafy herbs within. She brought it over to Howl. "This, right? To call upon a natural state."

Howl looked up at her, surprised. She only laughed pleasantly. "I trained under Mrs. Pentstemmon too, you know!"

Howl had the grace to look a little embarrassed, but by the time he wiped a bit of sweat from his brow with his long sleeve, the look went away, leaving behind a debonair smile. "Quite right." He took the packet and sprinkled some of the leaves on the dog-man. "It'll just be another few minutes, and then you should be sorted out."

The dog-man wheezed a crackly sigh, but Sophie suspected it was supposed to be a dog's whine.

"One more go!" Howl called to Calcifer. Calcifer flared up high, and Howl declared a string of words. There was a thunderclap, closer than any the afternoon storm had brought, and suddenly the man turned into two, who both fell to the ground. Mrs. Fairfax helped one up, and Sophie and Martha helped the other. The man the sisters grasped was pale and spirit-like, with pale blue eyes and hair the color of a snowstorm pulled into a pigtail. Mrs. Fairfax's man had craggy features. He was a little bulky - not fat, but thick - and he was tall enough that Sophie and Martha struggled to keep him upright. Michael pulled out two chairs for the men, and the women half-dragged them over to take a seat. The men toppled into their chairs. Somehow, ignoring their unnaturally white features, the two men looked even less aware of what was happening than they had when they'd been one person. Their eyes had half their luminescence. They looked around slowly, bewilderedly.

"Good God," Howl said after he stretched and took a proper look at the new men. "Prince Justin, I daresay."

Everyone turned and looked at the one by Mrs. Fairfax. He only gave a dull kind of nod.

Howl looked at the one by Martha. "Are you Wizard Suliman, then, by chance?"

That man nodded too, almost uncertainly.

"What's  _wrong_  with them?" Lettie cried.

Howl squinted at them. "They're not all there."

"I think we picked up on that bit," Sophie said dryly.

"I meant literally. There's pieces missing. Right now, they're just pale imitations of themselves, almost like ghosts."

Lettie stood up shakily. Mrs. Fairfax helped her. "Can you make me young again?" Lettie asked. Then she paused. "If you've the power for it, anyway," she amended with some reluctance.

But Howl took the challenge in stride, though he took a peek at Calcifer, who nodded. "We should be all right. All right, old blueface, this is the last bit for today, then we'll take it easy."

Calcifer looked up at Mrs. Fairfax, who chuckled. "I promise to give you some honeycomb."

"Good," he said.

With one last gust of power, Howl grabbed hold of something in the air by Lettie, who closed her eyes. With a rough yank and almost a ripping sound, Lettie stumbled forward before being caught by Mrs. Fairfax. "All the aches are gone," Lettie cried, then yelped as Howl made one last go at it. Her skin smoothed over and her hair lost its silver. She was herself again. She surveyed her hands and skin, stretching. Then she glanced at Howl. "I don't trust you," she said. "But thank you."

Howl bowed, which did nothing to earn Lettie's respect.

Instead, she went over to the two colorless men. "Hello," she said, her voice suddenly losing all its certainty. "Do you recognize me?"

Both men nodded. But as Lettie let out a tremulous smile, Wizard Suliman reached out and lightly touched her hand, eyes staring at the wall dimly. She colored, then held his hand.

Sophie shifted her eyes away from them, watching as Howl knelt by Calcifer. "You know," he said to the fire demon, "we're going to need more rooms."

"If I have to put up with this cramped space," Calcifer spat out, "the rest of you can deal with it as well!"

"Now that Lettie is young again, she doesn't need as much space to sleep," Sophie reflected. "She, Martha and I can share the cubby. The bed is wide enough."

Howl looked up. "I assume you don't want to share my room?"

" _Howl_."

"It was a joke," he said with a tired smile. "You're not sharing the cubby."

She glared, hands on her hips. "Why not?"

"Because you were just telling me how stressed-"

"Shut  _up_ ," she hissed, glancing behind her. But no one was paying any mind.

Howl caught on, though. "Hmm. You know, we could pull one or two more rooms in instead of creating brand new ones."

" _Stop_ ," Calcifer whined, burrowing low under a charred log, looking like a single burning flame rather than the large inferno from minutes before. Even a honeycomb Sophie tossed into the hearth did little to sooth his spirits.

"Poor Calcifer," Sophie said.

"Why just poor Calcifer?" Howl asked, sulking up at her. "Poor Howl, too!"

"Yes, yes, you did all right," she murmured, trying to ignore the big smile he flashed her. Then something else flashed in his eyes.

"You know," he said, "you could maybe pull in a room or two yourself. Come on." He got to his feet in a jiffy, but he suddenly wobbled, grasping the shelf above the hearth. Sophie quickly stood by his side, hands reached out, but unsure where to put them. She took a step back once he'd steadied himself, and she grasped her dress.

"You need to eat something," she said, tossing a few logs for Calcifer to munch on once he woke up.

"So bossy," he chirped, though without his usual exuberance. He spotted a box of chocolates Martha and Michael had brought back from Vale End and snagged a couple, the others too busy trying to talk to the divided dog-men to pay attention. He put one in Sophie's hand and downed two others himself.

"I meant a real meal," she said disapprovingly.

"Calcifer is out of commission for a while, and I've gotten spoiled by your lovely meals. I'd rather not have another sandwich for a while." He started up the steps, gripping the railing tightly. "Come on, Ms. Nose!"

She rolled her eyes skyward before following, popping the chocolate into her mouth before it melted in her hand. She tasted a hint of mint. Up the stairs she went, following him to the end of the hallway, toward Howl's room. He'd made it clear when she first came to the castle that she needn't clean his room, and she wondered now at how filthy it was, and if it was a sanctuary to the spiders he'd once adamantly defended. She'd never bothered peeking in, despite her nickname of Ms. Nose; it wasn't proper for a young woman to go through a man's room.

(She didn't consider how, under that logic, cleaning Michael's room had been inappropriate.)

Howl appeared to notice her looking at his door. "Want to slip into my room?" he asked, eyebrows waggling.

She snorted. "Idiot." With a steaming face, she faced the empty hallway with a sole, small window looking out at Vale End. "How do I do this? Do I picture several rooms or...?"

"Let's just stick with one room for now," Howl said, leaning against the doorframe. "Try making space for the room, first. This is as much of an experiment for me as it is for you. Let's just see what comes of it."

Sophie blushed harder, thinking of other experiments that took place in the flower shop.

_Let's see what comes of it, indeed._

"All right, then," she said, hands on her hips as she glared at the wall. "Scooch down a bit, will you? You're so great and massive on the outside, and the Vale End mansion is so large as well, so you've plenty of room. So shoo!"

The castle seemed to groan.

Sophie wanted to look at Howl, but she refused to do that. Glaring harshly at the wall, she thought. If it was created by Howl and Calcifer, she'd no doubt that it would take to flattery.

She changed her approach.

"Come on, now," she coaxed. "I know you can do it. Show us what you're made of, wall!"

It groaned again, much louder. She thought she heard some crackles, and she winced, looking up at the roof.

"You're fine," Howl said, though sweat was beading on his forehead again. "I'm making sure it won't collapse. Actually, hold on." He dashed down the hallway, down the stairs, and up again, chalk in hand. He made some symbols on the wall. Several minutes later, he said, "All right. Try it again."

"There, you hear that?" she said to the wall. "Go ahead and stretch yourself out."

The wall groaned, but began bending outward. At a creeping pace, it stretched back and back, new flooring matching the rest of the hallway appearing. Howl and Sophie followed it until it came to a stop a few yards down.

"Wonderful!" Sophie praised, clapping her hands with sudden pride and giddiness before she stopped herself, flushing for the umpteenth time that day. "Er, you can go ahead and rest again. Well done, wall."

Her connection with the wall ended.

"Well done,  _you_ ," Howl said, though he sounded exhausted. "That would've taken Michael, Calcifer and I at least an hour."

Sophie's heart turned over in her chest. "I can't tell if you're exaggerating or trying to be honest again."

"Quite honest, I assure you. It weighs strangely on my tongue."

Sophie refused to show him the proud little smile she was sporting. "Er, the room."

"Right." He coached her from his place against the wall, looking like he was ready to slide down it and take a nap any second. But he kept his eyes open and on her as she tried to coax and then bully a room out of the wall next to his own room. He gave her suggestions to try, such as picturing a room that existed rather than just a place some random room could assemble itself. That helped a great deal, and after some time, a door etched itself into the wall.

She pushed it open.

It was dark. The storm must have made its way down to Market Chipping. Sophie turned a little knob on the wall, and lights flickered on in the gas-lit chandelier. A bed rested between two windows, perfectly tucked in, and a soft bench lay near a table and mirror. A desk was tucked away in the corner, by a window. Several books rested neatly, systematically organized, on a small bookcase.

Sophie swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Your room?" Howl asked, startling her. He rested a hand against the doorframe, but soon abandoned it to go over to the bookcase. "Let me guess: Organized first by subject, then by author?"

"You figured that out quick," she replied quietly, swallowing hard again.

"Well, these are obviously old school books," Howl said, pulling a title out from the bottom shelf. "Then we've got some sewing and knitting guides here. Romances? I'm surprised, my dear Sophie."

"They're Lettie's. She insisted I read them."

"And?"

She shrugged, absently sitting on her bed. It was nothing special, and the mattress and quilt had been hers ever since she could remember, making them dull and rough on the back. But it was wider than what she'd grown used to in her cubby, and she suddenly remembered nights where her sisters crept into her room during a thunderstorm, the three of them wincing together until Fanny and Father came in and told them stories.

"They were all right, I suppose," she answered. "The men needed hobbies outside of pursuing their love interests, and the women needed to stop swooning quite so much and fix their own problems."

"I'm surprised your sister liked them."

"A guilty pleasure, I suppose," she said. "Then again, Lettie has always been much more charming around suitors. I've never been quite sure if it was an act or real. I think she honestly does love that sort of romance."

"Megan does, too. I'm pretty sure hers are a bit more profane than what Lettie's read."

Sophie snorted. "I'm pretty sure these are some of the tamer ones she owns. I'm sure she didn't think I'd be interested in anything more...risqué." But she didn't like talking about her sister right now, about how Lettie enjoyed reading more adventurous works. Sophie felt like she was the old woman now. She thought of beautiful Lettie, how charming she looked as she approached the dog-men. She wondered when Howl would notice her.

"What's this?" Howl asked, picking up a book on the upper shelf. He sat on the corner of her mattress, his hips near hers. He bounced a little, frowning at the stiffness of the bed.

"Oh, I used to enjoy learning languages a little," she said. "I knew I was the eldest of three, and I'd take over the hat shop one day, but I liked the idea of traveling. I knew it wouldn't happen, but..." She shrugged. "I still peeked in the books sometimes after I left school last year to work in the hat shop, once my father died, but I didn't have time to do much with them. I barely read at all; my fingers ached after I spent so much time making hats, and I still have some of the callouses." She pursed her lips then, instinctively hid them under the folds of her dress.

"Sometimes, I forget how young you are," Howl muttered, keeping his eyes firmly on the book in his hands.

"How old are  _you_?" Sophie asked, curious. She'd known he was older than her, but while she'd felt a little uncomfortable around him at first when they first met, he acted so immature sometimes that she had a hard time figuring out his age.

"Old enough to know better. Was this your favorite language, then?" he asked, holding up a different book with dog-eared pages.

"I once had a classmate from Zanzib. He had a lovely accent, almost lyrical, and I wanted to try to make them feel at home here in Ingary. We would have broken conversations," she said with a sudden chuckle, "with him trying to speak Inglish and me trying to speak Rashputian."

"Him? That's a lot of effort to go through for just a classmate," Howl said distantly, putting both books back on the shelf.

"We were fourteen."

"Michael started seeing Martha when he was fourteen."

"Howl!" she cried, rolling her eyes. "Martha and Lettie were the ones with beaus, not me."

"Not for lack of effort on that boy's part, I'm sure," Howl said brusquely. "You're a hard woman to win over."

"Oh, stop," she grumbled. Even though Calcifer had flickered so dimly in the hearth, she felt as if the room had grown ten degrees warmer. "You're slithering out again."

"Of what?" he said, blinking innocently at her.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 10,000 days old on Midsummer Day."

Well,  _that_ was the slipperiest way he'd ever tried slithering out. "You couldn't even give me an actual birthday?" she laughed despite herself, reluctantly amused.

"I just know it because that's part of the terms of the curse," Howl said.

Suddenly, Sophie's stomach sank.

"But," he said, winking, "it does make for an excellent way to avoid answering some questions."

He'd said it so lightly, she knew he was trying to make her feel better. "You're 27," she accused after a moment, eyeing him.

His grin tightened. "Will you start searching for gray hairs on me then, Ms. Nose?"

"As long as you don't begin treating me like a child for being 18," Sophie replied primly, heart pounding. Plenty of men courted women just as young as her, if not younger. Her own father had been ten years older than Fanny when they married. But the way Howl had mentioned how young she was, she supposed things might be different in Wales. She herself had never considered seeing someone much older than her until the past month.

Not that he was courting her, of course.

"Fair enough," he said. "Here's what I'm thinking: You'll move into your room; Lettie, Mrs. Fairfax, and Martha will take Neil and Mari's bedroom since there's two beds in there; one of our new guests stays in your old cot and the other sleeps on the couch."

"I can take someone in my room."

"No, no. I shouldn't have let you stay in the cubby as long as you did. Now, doesn't this feel more like home?"

He smiled so dashingly at her that she flinched back, instinctively grabbed a pillow, and smashed it against his face.

"Sophie!" he pleaded, laughing.

She felt emotional, so she tried to scowl at him despite the smile that threatened to break through. She didn't know why he was so honest with her lately, or so caring, but she wouldn't complain too much, she supposed.

"I'm going to take a nap," Howl announced after a few moments, standing abruptly. "We'll try to make sense of our guests later."

"Howl?"

She didn't know why she called him suddenly, and when he turned around she scrambled to find something to say. Eventually, she settled on, "When is the ball?"

"Next week. Will you search for a gown, or shall I get one for you?"

Oh, she hadn't even  _thought_  of the dress. "Surprise me. I can always adjust the measurements myself."

He bowed, then winked and left.

Sophie lay back in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, a thousand emotions flitting within her.


	25. In Which Honesty is Dangerous

Howl shifted, trying to sneak a peek of himself in the elegant mirror for sale behind the counter. The women in front of him weren't making this easy; they kept darting this way and that, finding new materials to show him and finding mannequins to dress up so he could view multiple options at once. Then, of course, was the fact that while he tried to sneak peeks of himself, the younger women (and a couple of the older) kept trying to sneak peeks at  _him_. So he'd have to try and pretend he wasn't trying to look at himself, because that seemed vain, and that wasn't something  _they_ needed to know about him. Finally, one floated out of the way just enough so he could survey the dark hair he sported. It was pitch black, dyed freshly this morning. He was fond of it, but he much preferred the blond look. This was a little too close to his natural mud-brown shade, a little too much like Howell Jenkins of Knighton before he'd experimented with hair dye just before college. It had more than tripled his success rate with the ladies, that dye, and he made it a constant in his life once he arrived in Ingary. Magic worked much better at dying hair without ruining its healthy glow.

He'd made a few other tweaks to his appearance as well, of course. He wasn't the Witch of the Waste; he didn't change entirely. But he bought several new suits so he wouldn't wear any old recognizable ones for several days, and he let himself grow out a slight hint of a beard - magicked to match his hair, of course - so he'd blend in a little, though he kept it neatly at a five o'clock shadow appearance rather than a mountain man's burly length. He considered changing his eye color too, but several women had claimed he possessed a striking gaze. No need to deprive them of that.

From the swift glances he made at his reflection, he was more than satisfied. Yes, the hair color was just a tad too similar to his real shade, but he liked the way it fell against his scruff. And he supposed the dark hair did make him look a little more serious - the type of look that moved away from dashing playboy to handsome businessman. Or a novelist. No, not a novelist - although he liked to think he was clever and sensitive enough to be one. But novelists were so broody and never had any fun. Neither did businessmen, he supposed, but he liked the idea of looking like someone important and able to provide. Women tended to look at something like that now that he reached that certain age.

Except Sophie. Sophie wasn't looking for someone to provide for her, despite being Ingarian. Even with the new hair color and scruff, she'd taken a look at him and, instead of staring at him with doe eyes and a flush, she'd merely rolled her eyes and turned back to the bacon Calcifer was pouting under.

Which was odd. You'd think she'd love the new look. Sophie herself was always serious, or at least more so than most women he'd met. No, that wasn't true. He'd met women soon after university who'd been a challenge for him. He didn't always go for the simpering maidens. Especially after trading his heart, he found that the chase of the more stubborn ladies gave him a hint of more spark in his chest cavity than he usually had. He chased after the feeling, delighting in it. Until he won them over and suddenly there was no more spark, no more hint at being human. It wasn't that he didn't feel any emotions at all, ever, but he never had a thrill anymore, of a heart beating overtime with excitement. Not unless he chased and chased.

But Sophie was different.

And that wasn't to say she was "different than all the other girls," although perhaps he'd thought so earlier on in their acquaintance. He'd met stubborn women, beautiful women, feisty women, quiet women, sweet women...But Sophie was a unique blend of all those traits. A woman as fiery as her shouldn't also have such a meek streak. A woman so beautiful shouldn't also be so modest. And a woman as irritated with frivolousness shouldn't also be so nice to someone like him.

He hadn't planned on kissing her. Usually, he planned his conquests to some extent. He supposed he was a bit like an actor - dressing the part, knowing the lines, perfecting the timing, able to improv but keeping his eyes on the end goal - and Ingary had felt like a stage, if he wanted to throw around some Shakespeare. But Ingary hadn't felt like a stage lately, even excluding the death threats. And Sophie certainly wasn't an actress. Even when she pursed her lips and pretended to ignore him - a la the reaction to his hair - he could still see the irritation painting her cheeks red or the laughter sparkling in her eyes. Even when she wasn't snapping at him or making a sarcastic comment, she was always so  _emotive_. Megan had always told him he was so dramatic - some exes had said the same - but Sophie was too in a different way. Despite that similarity - perhaps the only one between them - she had a stubbornness where he was weak, a thoughtfulness where he could be slapdash. What a strange pair they made.

And were they a pair? He wouldn't have put a label on it before. He wouldn't have clung to the title of paramour, lover, suitor - even boyfriend - but while part of him wanted to slide out of any possibility of being labeled, and therefore attached (like a chain, like a curse) to any woman, part of him wished he could kick himself into action and establish that with her. She was a woman once engaged, but she'd never been courted, and he knew she'd never been kissed prior to him. He felt odd at that idea. A part of him wished to flee from something that was turning so serious, so suddenly, and another part was absolutely euphoric and triumphant. Some alpha male piece of him wanted to declare that she was  _his_ , that Sophie Hatter, woman extraordinaire, chose  _him_. He hadn't expected that. They hadn't even kissed since that day almost a week ago. But they'd exchanged glances. It was hard to do much more in a castle crowded with people, many of whom were her relatives. Plus, he had his magic business to run, they had the flower shop, and in between it all they were trying to reclaim the dog-men's missing pieces as well as Fanny from under the Witch's nose. But the barricades were high on the Witch's end. Nothing would break them unless he was right in the Waste, and despite wanting to end this hostage crisis, Howl had no desire to actually walk right into the Witch's clutches. Sophie never brought it up to him, either, although Lettie sometimes suggested it.

In his darkest thoughts, late at night when he and Calcifer spoke silently to each other, conversation bespelled so no one would wake, Howl had a sinking feeling he'd end up in the Waste one of these days anyway.

After all, Midsummer was only thirteen days away.

"How's this, sir?" a blonde with thick red lips asked. She was pretty, he could appreciate that. But while he smiled and assured her that she and her coworkers did a marvelous job, he had little desire to stick around and watch those nice pink cheeks turn a darker red or hear the light laughter trickle from her mouth. Instead, once she and two others boxed the gown up for him, as well as a pair of shoes and jewelry, Howl simply paid an exorbitant amount and left after bowing a good day.

His pockets were uncomfortably light, though he usually carried little on him, and for a moment he was disappointed he couldn't get that elegant little mirror behind the register. But Sophie probably wouldn't appreciate it. He couldn't see it in her functional little room, so tidy and organized with only a little bit of fine fabrics draping the little table by her bed. But if she eventually moved into  _his_ room, he could see it going right by the door, perhaps above the -

 _All right, that's quite enough of_ that, he told himself sharply. It was one thing to be a little (a lot) more heavily invested in this not-quite relationship than any other he'd ever had. It was another to think about Sophie moving in with him - well, into his room, specifically. He'd never lived with any woman except his mum and sister. He'd stayed overnight, sometimes even for several days if things were particularly fun between him and a girl, but moving in with a woman was crossing one of the many invisible borders he'd set up for himself. He always thought his dishonesty was one of his biggest traits, but really he slid out of serious things because he was too honest with himself. If things began getting serious with any girl, he'd quickly realize it was no longer fun and games, but something heavy, and he hated seeing women cry more than he had to. So he made sure to never get to that point. But it was more than just the girl's emotions involved. Really, he didn't mind the idea of something serious, but every time he thought he might see something with someone, they grew closer and he realized that the spark was gone again. If he stayed longer, and then he left, she'd be more hurt. After so long, especially heartless, he'd more or less given up the idea of really, truly finding something serious.

And now that there was a hint that with Sophie Hatter, he might have found that, he was terrified.

His words with her, especially the day of their kiss(es), had come out more honestly than ever before. He'd kissed her unexpectedly - no games, just desire. And when he prepared to be slapped, she'd come to him and pressed her lips to his in a messy novice sort of way that he cherished, because he knew what she was like. No, not just that. He knew  _her_. Not entirely, of course, but he could truly say that he knew her. He knew when she was biting her tongue, when her sharp words were out of fear and dishonesty, when she was truly angry, when she was delighted.

Her kissing him meant there was no games with her, either. Even more precious than her confiding in him minutes before (she'd trusted him... _him_!) was the fact that she made this move with pure desire and honesty. She'd chosen him, even if just for the minute, despite knowing more than any other woman before her just what his flaws were, how obnoxious he could be, that his reputation and actions were the very things that should have turned her away. And she wasn't like the women who quickly played the heroine role of bodice-rippers, throwing all restraint to the wind. She accepted his deepening their kiss, his hands on her, but did not use him to seek more of that devious pleasure brewing between them like many women did, wanting to explore what their governesses or mothers or aunts warned them about pursuing. She'd been so sweet and shy, though eager, and he knew that this was not about her being young and wanting to try something exciting. This was about her wanting to be with  _him_ , though she didn't cling to him as he'd (hoped) expected she might.

Lord, but his mind was a mess. He wanted her and feared her and wondered why the devil he wanted nothing more than to cast her out of his house as well as lock the two of them in his room for the rest of their lives, all at the same time. He had bigger things to worry about, really. The Witch had taken pieces of two men, Sophie's stepmother had been kidnapped, and the clock ticked ever closer to Midsummer Day. Plus, there was his little contract with Calcifer.

And here he was, contradicting himself even in his own mind, thinking of her more often than his fear.

It was just because the rest of it didn't quite feel real, surely. Ingary was still the stage he played on. But when she was near him, when her eyes drifted off as she scrubbed the counter and he knew she was thinking of her stepmother, or when she read books she'd borrowed from the library about hearts, whispering to Calcifer while the others talked - everything felt more real.

It wasn't just a spark in his chest anymore. But he wouldn't call it a flame, either. In some ways, the emptiness in his chest felt more heavier than ever when he was around her, and yet his veins thrummed with life just bantering with her, or even when he saw the little ginger (red-gold) head poke her head through the shop door and ask if someone could pluck some violets for a customer. There was no thrilling dates between them, no grand gestures or songs written. It was mundane, yet he treasured it even while he grew frightened.

Speaking of thrilling dates...

He glanced at the parcels, then smiled.

"Good afternoon, friends!" he bellowed as he opened the front door before realizing the room was considerably more bare than usual. His first thought was seeking out Sophie. "Where is everyone?"

Michael chirped, writing down the conversions for a spell Howl had given him earlier that morning, "Mrs. Fairfax begged to run the shop. She said she felt stir-crazy. The men are helping her. They keep darting between here and the garden. I think she's trying to keep them lively."

"And our lovely ladies?"

Howl was amused to see Michael look up and try to restrain a scowl. " _My_ lovely lady is sitting out on the bench in the courtyard of Vale End, talking to her sisters."

Howl nodded, then was struck by inspiration. If Sophie was alone with her sisters, maybe she was confiding in them. Perhaps he'd hear a little more about how she was feeling about their pseudo-relationship.

"Michael," he said, "I think we need some steaks. Pick up some, will you?"

"I'm almost done-"

"Sophie will be annoyed if we don't have enough when she goes to cook."

Sophie hadn't been preparing steaks for dinner, he knew, but Michael had too much of a moral compass for what he was about to do. Once Michael left, scared into action by the thought of a grumpy Sophie, Calcifer piped up, "What are you planning?"

"What, me?" Howl asked, blinking, before gathering a few ingredients and metal and throwing them together. Soon, he felt the pulse of magic, and he could hear Martha say, "So you do like Suliman, over the Prince."

"I think it was his personality that really was in the dog-man," Lettie said. "At least, I'm guessing so. It's hard to know how I feel about him, since I don't  _know_  the full him yet."

"Save that for your wedding day," Martha snickered.

" _Martha_ ," Sophie groaned, but let out a laugh. Howl's heart made Calcifer shift, glaring up at him.

"Speaking of men: Do you think Howl will break his curse, Sophie?" Martha asked.

"He'd better," was all she said.

"You said he had till Midsummer?" Lettie asked. "I still don't know why he can't just trade himself in for Fanny and the pieces of the Prince and Wizard Suliman."

He could imagine Sophie bristling. "The Witch can't be trusted. She took the Royal Wizard and Prince Justin and scrambled them together for a reason. I doubt she's just doing so for fun. If they were ordinary people, maybe. But they're powerful. And Howl's a powerful wizard too, in his own right. Besides, even if he just traded himself for Fanny's safety, do you really think the Witch would keep her word?"

"But-"

"I saw a woman  _die_ , Lettie," Sophie snapped. "She won't just keep her word."

Lettie acquiesced, but then said, "Sophie, you're awfully defensive of him."

"Am I?" she answered airily.

"You said you weren't in love with him."

"I don't know if I'm in  _love_ with him," Sophie said, so quietly that the hearing spell almost didn't catch it. "Besides, isn't love blind? I feel I see him awfully clearly. He's obnoxious, dramatic. He loves the sound of his own voice, and he makes me want to hit him sometimes. But...but then he lets that little veil fall and he's...kind...and...stop  _looking_ at me like that!"

"What's happened? Sophie, something happened between the two of you!" Martha cried.

"I..."

"He's even taking you to a ball," Lettie said thoughtfully, with a little less antagonism than before.

"It's just politics..."

"Did he kiss you?"

"I've got to get dinner started!" Sophie declared.

The two girls complained about this, but then Lettie, after a moment, began saying, "Martha, are you and Michael-"

Howl heard nothing more, because he managed to disassemble the spell just at that moment, the same moment that Sophie opened the castle door.

"Oh," she said, coloring and shutting the door with more power than necessary, rattling the frame.

"I've got your dress," Howl said, unable to keep from grinning. "You should be ready for the ball, Cinderella."

"Who?"

"Sophie," Calcifer called out with a cackle, "you're getting soft!"

Sophie looked at the hearth bewilderedly, giving Howl just enough time to start scattering the mechanics of the spell. But she turned back and caught sight of what he was doing.

"Is that...?"

Clearly, she paid far too much attention to the magic lessons.

Her eyes met his, and he was a little too dumbstruck by the color of them to come up with a proper excuse. Then she turned colors, shifting from light pink to dark red, her hands clenching and eyes burning. Her soft lips curled with anger and humiliation.

"You were  _listening_?"

Howl dropped one of the metal pieces from the backyard, hands up in the air pacifyingly. "Calcifer, you are the worst," he said matter-of-fact, sending a faint smile at Sophie.

"I think that title belongs to you," Calcifer sniped back.

"You  _snooper_!" Sophie screamed, grabbing something blindly - thankfully just a wrapped loaf of bread - and chucking it at his head. He dodged it with a nervous laugh.

"Sophie, darling,  _cariad - "_

_"Shut up!"_

A book this time, pages fluttering. Howl caught it before it smashed into his torso.

"Darling, you really don't have a very good throw - "

" _Gah!_ "

A frying pan this time. Howl didn't have the hands to catch it and merely winced, using the bread and book to block it before it fell to the ground with a clang.

"Why would you do that?" Sophie yelled.

The door opened. It was Justin and Suliman, bearing flowers from the edge of the Waste.

"Get out!" she screamed at them.

The door slammed shut.

Howl watched as she whirled back at him. No longer was Calcifer even laughing; Howl suspected he'd slunk beneath the logs, realizing this was a far more violent reaction than he'd anticipated. After all, if Howl died, Calcifer died. But for a brief moment, Howl wasn't even afraid of her. He was captivated by the flush in her cheeks, the way her eyes glittered, and how her hair flamed around her, wisps separated from her braid. She was beautiful, his feisty little mouse. He'd never been so stupefied or so turned on in his life. He'd never considered himself  _that_ sort of fellow, but maybe he liked a domineering sort of woman.

And then, as if coming back from a gun going off near his ear, the world started spinning again, and she began yelling at him once more.

"Why on earth would you  _do_ that?" she demanded, stamping her foot in such an unladylike way that he wanted to scoop her up and have her ankles wrap around his waist. "That's incredibly humiliating! My secrets are my own, and you've no right to start eavesdropping for...for...I don't know what! Especially after ignoring me the past few days!"

Howl regained his tongue. "Ignoring?"

She snorted. "I'm quite ignorant about most of these things; I admit it. I probably should've guessed you'd drop me soon. I just expected..." She paused. "I must've just expected you to wait a few more days before doing so," she continued airily.

"Drop you?" Howl sputtered, mind whirling. "What do you take me for? I've been spending hours at shops, trying to get a very lovely gown for you!" He gestured over at the boxes with the loaf of bread.

She set eyes on the packages for the first time. He watched her hesitate, then round on him again. "Yes, I'm sure those are for me," she grumbled. "Don't worry, I won't send any angry aunts over you. Mrs. Fairfax's the closest thing I have to an aunt, and she doesn't even know anything happened. Not that...not that anything important happened."

Had he been less upset - less mortified, less defensive, less bewildered - he might have been amused at her attempts to sound dismissive and dignified. But for the first time since what felt like ages ago, when she'd wound up lost and assaulted in Wales, he was angry. He was downright furious.

"Nothing happened?" Then he got angrier because he sounded like some bloody parrot. "I'm taking  _you_ to a ball, not some other girl! I've been thinking of nothing but you for the past month, let alone the past week! If I've been neglecting you, it's because this castle is infested with so many people, many of whom are your relatives, and I'm too much of a gentleman to shove you up against the wall in front of them!"

She colored more deeply, eyes watery and embarrassed and averting from him. She moved to walk away; no doubt the mouse was off to hide in her little hole.

Like he'd let that happen.

She let out a shout when he grabbed her wrist, but he only tightened his hold. He shouted at her, "I understand that everything you think of me is all my own doing, but you ought to know-!"

She was shaking.

She wasn't crying, but her eyes were a little more watery than before, sparkling in a way he didn't like at all.

He looked down at her wrist, where the three-quarter-length sleeve ended, where his hand wrapped around her. She was such a powerful presence, magically and in personality, scrubbing and commanding with a ferocity matching a bull, that he hadn't thought in a while how small she was. He slowly unwrapped his hand and slid it down to her fingers, a too-late masquerade of gentlemanly conduct. Really, he wanted to see what he'd done without her pulling away.

There was a small pale band where his hand had gripped her.

It might even bruise.

Howl pulled away, her unmoving fingers sliding from his grasp, dropping limply to her side.

He swallowed hard, his eyes meeting hers.

He hated the sparkle that remained there.

But then she swallowed too, and after a moment, she said, visibly struggling to keep her voice steady, "I threw a frying pan at you, so I think we're even."

He hadn't expected that.

"I'm going to clean the bath. With so many people here, it's getting filthy. Especially," she quipped, though it was milder than her usual delivery, "since you had to dye your hair a darker shade."

She walked past him, going up the stairs. She heard her close the bathroom door behind her, though the fumes from the cleaning probably couldn't be good in a closed space. He hoped she at least opened a window.

Howl stared at the floor, his mind, for once, not whirling.

Then he heard the door fling open and boots pound against the stairs as she rushed down.

"Howl!" she called, peeking over the railing.

He whipped around, eyes meeting hers. Her face was red, and she said, "If you don't want me, just say so."

He nodded. "Certainly," he rasped.

She seemed to wait for him to say it, but when he didn't, she flushed harder and said, "Were you telling the truth, that you've...thought of m-me the past month?"

 _Stop talking_ , his old instincts demanded.

But he said, almost absently, but truthfully, so truthfully it hurt:

"It's causing Calcifer a lot of irritation, actually."

"It's true!" Calcifer shouted from under his logs. "It keeps flopping around like some little fish!"

Howl winced; that was more honesty than he'd wished.

But Sophie bit her lip, trying to hold together the smile that was escaping nonetheless. She didn't give an open-mouthed smile very often. When she did, it was breathtaking.

"Heartburn, Calcifer?" she asked, her voice a little higher than usual. As soon as she said the words, though, she raised her eyes heavenward, as if begging, "Please smite me now."

"That was a very Howl-ish comment," Calcifer grumbled.

"I know," Sophie said, sounding mortified. Then she met Howl's gaze, looked away quickly, then determinedly met it again. "I almost hurt you more than you hurt me," she said, using her no-nonsense voice again, though it was still softer than usual, like a squeaky mouse. "Stop worrying. I know you're sorry. I am too." She jabbed a finger toward him. "So stop worrying."

Then she gave him a small smile, just a glimpse of it, before she rushed up the stairs again.

It was not until the door slammed shut again that whatever spell she'd put on him wore off, and he staggered over to the hearth and dumped himself into a chair. Green slime seemed imminent.

"Well," Calcifer said, "that went well."

Howl opened his eyes in a stupor. "You can't be serious."

"She got mad, you got mad, and then you both got over it. Isn't that good?"

"It shouldn't have even gotten to that point!" Howl protested, digging his fingers into his scalp, messing up his well-styled hair. "I hurt her." He tasted the words on his tongue again, acidic. "I hurt her."

"Not intentionally, and it wasn't as if a little pinch on the wrist was on the same level as nearly being brained by a frying pan," Calcifer helpfully pointed out. "I know humans are fragile, but-"

"I need my heart back," Howl said abruptly, ignoring Calcifer's glare at interrupting him. "If I have my heart back, I'd be able to regulate my emotions better, wouldn't I?"

"Honestly, the fact that your heart's detached probably is why you're handling the end of the curse as well as you are. You ought to be petrified," Calcifer said, musingly, "but Sophie's distracted you so much, and your body has a hard time focusing on multiple strong emotions at once."

"I thought you wanted this contract over with, too? You were the one who first approached Sophie about breaking the curse, as far as I remember."

"Sure, but I can look at the bright side. She's getting close to breaking it, but she's got to work up her confidence. That's her biggest downfall: She doesn't trust herself."

 _Or me_ , Howl thought, though the smile she gave him at the end of their fight seemed to make him feel a little like that wasn't entirely true.

"Watch it!" Calcifer sizzled, shifted yet again.

"Sorry," Howl said unrepentantly.

"We can worry about the contract later. First and foremost: the Witch's curse." Calcifer eyed him, blue flame spurting. "I'm glad I was able to see the two of you by yourselves. You're usually so sneaky about it, I can't always get a clear picture."

"What are you talking about?"

"The terms of your curse. I've figured it out."

Howl sat up straight.

"Honesty."

Howl raised a brow.

"I've been wondering why it was that the terms of the curse were so murky, but it's because it wasn't an event, it was a trait: honesty. You're hardly ever honest except around Sophie, specifically when you're alone. And even then you fib quite often. At least, you used to. You both exploded because you're so honest now."

"What good are feelings if that's the result?" Howl said bleakly. He wanted to crack a joke or go on a dramatic poetic tangent, but he hadn't the energy. Then Calcifer's words sunk in. "You think my being around Sophie is triggering my honesty - my honesty, what an odd thing to say - which in turn is triggering the curse?"

"If you get too honest, you'll be sucked right in."

And the way the embers popped and crackled further instilled the notion that there was no doubt.

Howl and Calcifer thought long and hard together. Too many times, Sophie's smile came back into view, her shy and anxious questions replacing the fiery picture of the little witch's tantrum.

But Howl then thought of being caught up by the Witch. And not only that: Being caught up by the Witch and having no ability to help the others who'd been ensnared by her. He thought of Sophie, devastated by the loss of her stepmother.

"Well, then," he said at last, a false, cheerful smile on my lips. "My shining dishonesty will be the salvation of me."

* * *

Meanwhile, a warm southern breeze flitted through the air, tangling the hair of two men as they sat on the stoop.

"Do you think we can go in yet?" Prince Justin asked dimly, staring at the horizon.

Suliman shrugged dully back, and they both lapsed into silence again.


	26. In Which Cinderella Becomes Polly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polly, referenced in the chapter title, is an allusion to the character in Diana Wynne Jones' FIRE AND HEMLOCK. It's a beauty of a book, if you haven't read it.

"Oh, Sophie, you look lovely!" Martha gasped.

Sophie winced as Lettie pushed in one last pin. "I feel like a pincushion."

"Well, you're a very attractive pincushion," Lettie retorted. "Behold!"

Sophie was spun around, and she surveyed her reflection in the newly-polished mirror with a bit of shock. She trusted her sisters; they certainly knew fashion better than she did, even though she'd been successful enough with hats. But she didn't think they'd give her  _this_ result. Her red-gold hair fell draped over one shoulder, little dark fasteners pinning it so against her scalp. Her gown was thicker than she'd worn even when she went to May Day events prior to her father passing, the petticoats just barely touching the floor. Her dress was a forest green hue, with a neckline that plunged just enough to emphasize her curves without making her feel uncomfortable. Her sisters had somehow snatched mascara for her from Lettie's collection at Mrs. Fairfax's home, and they found a lip stain that complimented her hair without competing in brightness.

Sophie felt beautiful.

"That's a good silence, right?" Martha asked as she and Lettie stood on either sides of their sister, looking at the reflection as well.

"That's a  _very_ good silence," Lettie replied. "I'm still iffy about Wizard Howl's intentions, but I'd rather get rheumatism and arthritis again than make my sister a disgrace at the King's ball."

Sophie couldn't say anything. She squeezed their hands in gratitude.

In a time where she'd been so stressed and afraid and confused, excepting the little moments she'd had with Howl, she was glad to have her sisters.

"Mother would cry if she could see you like this," Martha said quietly, and their hands all squeezed in unison. Fanny would, too, sobbing, "My dear girl, you look so beautiful!" If she'd known Sophie would be attending the King's ball with a Royal Wizard, she would have happily severed all connections between her and Mr. Collins.

A bang on the door startled them. "We're going to be late!" Howl bellowed.

For someone so suave, it was hardly his most charming moment, but the three sisters only grinned at each other, snickering at each other like schoolgirls.

"I'll be right there!" Sophie called. To her sisters, she hissed, " _Stop_ ," though she was smiling incessantly. "This is  _work_."

"Sure, you're there as the remaining Royal Wizard's escort to present a strong front," Lettie snarked, wrapping an arm around Sophie, "but a ball can mean work  _and_ play."

"Too bad you can't dance with the prince," Martha added wryly. "I'm pretty sure he'd topple over, though, if he'd reappear in court as he is."

"Shush!" Sophie said, opening the door.

"Ooh! Let us present you!" Martha cried suddenly, rushing ahead with Lettie just behind her.

Sophie rolled her eyes. "You're both having far too much fun with this."

"This is the nicest moment we've had in ages," Lettie replied, "and we mean to enjoy it!" Then her pretty head disappeared down the stairs. Sophie rushed to follow, but the heels and skirt didn't allow her to do so. She refused to break anything until the ball was over.

"Introducing," Martha said downstairs, "the lovely-"

"-powerful-" Lettie added.

"-intelligent-"

"-and magnificent: Miss Sophie Hatter!"

She was going to hit them.

Her face was dark red as she stepped down the final step, surrounded by amiable cheers and polite clapping, as well as her sisters' laughter. But she couldn't begrudge them a little bit of happiness.

Michael grinned at her. "You look great, Sophie."

Martha wrapped her arms around his, a little possessively. "Doesn't she?"

Mrs. Fairfax was saying something, and Calcifer was probably making a remark she didn't need to hear, and the two half-finished men looked at her with only vague interest, but Sophie's attention was caught on Howl. He was dressed in a dark suit, more formal and less gaudy than his usual. His hair was combed back. Somehow, he'd managed to do that without bathroom access. She  _knew_ he didn't need to spend all that time hogging the room! But regardless, she couldn't find it in herself to summon even a hint of a scoff. He looked handsome, though she'd never tell him that. She didn't need to increase his already swelled head.

But clearly, he thought she looked nice, too, since he wasn't saying or doing anything but staring at her.

Then his Adam's apple bobbed and he summoned a cheerful smile. "We'd best go. We're twenty minutes late as it is."

Sophie's color faded. "So late? I had no idea-"

He laughed at her. "You always need to show late to a ball! But we can't be  _too_  late, or else it wouldn't look well on Ingary if their Royal Wizard is slinking in as if he hasn't a care in the world."

They quickly said goodbye, and then they left through the Kingsbury entrance, where a carriage awaited them. Sophie rose a brow at him, and he said, "Courtesy of His Highness." He didn't seem to be too unhappy about being a Royal Wizard at the moment, she noted with a small smirk.

The problem was, as soon as the driver closed their door and the horses began trotting off, Sophie realized abruptly that she and Howl were in a small enclosed space together, and their relationship-if that's what she could call it-was so new that she hadn't the faintest idea how to act. She already felt herself getting defensive and prickly, keeping her guard up as her face flushed. She squashed down the defenses and tried to remember that this was to be work  _and_ play, as her sisters suggested. There was no sense in being a poor companion just because she was terrified of being alone with Howl more than meeting the King again or greeting foreign leaders.

But soon, Howl was chattering away about a new spell he'd had her and Michael try, and how there were several variants of it, and some spells called for a pinch of cinnamon as well as ivory to lengthen the effect but it also could cause numerous complications including turning into a veritable giraffe to anyone who breathed in the concoction and was altogether more trouble than it was worth.

Sophie was at first grateful for this safe territory. Then she got the subtle impression that he was perhaps trying to slither out of any awkwardness as well, which was both amusing and strange to think, since he was clearly more experienced in all this than she was. Then she was interested in the topic. Finally, she was simply confused.

But they soon arrived at the palace, full of glowing lights and servants and women dressed in gorgeous dresses and hairstyles and men looking their most dashing. Nerves were creeping up on her, but then she remembered that this was hands-down the easiest thing she'd done in a while. She probably wouldn't have to talk to many of the nobles; Howl would talk enough for both of them, no doubt.

As Howl stepped out of the carriage and helped her down, she took a deep breath and decided she'd be all right.

"Nervous?" he asked lightly as he suddenly tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and they began walking up the stairs. She kept her eyes solidly on the open doors of the palace ahead.

"No," she said determinedly.

He laughed at her, but she didn't resent it as much as she would have a few weeks ago. They got in line, where Howl informed her that they'd need to be announced. Each party approached a servant by the ballroom doors and told their name and rank, and the servant bellowed this information to the full ballroom. Sophie couldn't see much beyond the groups in front of her, but she heard the constant murmur of conversations and laughing in the ballroom. It sounded busy.

The mouse in her was coming out.

"It'll be over soon enough," Howl said.

She made a noncommittal sound, perhaps not even audible amidst the conversations.

He paused, then sighed. "My dear Sophie," he said, "you needn't worry." He flashed a dashing grin, full of white teeth. "I refuse to be outshone by you."

She snorted a laugh despite herself, which she hastened to stifle. She was too keenly aware of the groups who were glancing over at them, but she appreciated Howl's effort.

He kept making little quips about some of the people he'd met while frequenting events like this, about how an archduke once arrived with his wife and then drunkenly got her mixed up with someone else and exclaimed, "By God, how'd you lose all your weight so quickly?" The wife had approached Howl after finding out he was a wizard, no doubt not wanting to air her business with an official Royal Wizard at the time, and asked about turning her husband into something repulsive. She would have paid handsomely, but she was also offering herself, and Howl was many things, but an encourager of adultery he was not. She ended up finding another wizard and soon her husband found himself under an honesty spell which, coupled with drunkenness, led to the ruin of several of his connections among the nobles. He hadn't been invited to the palace since.

The stories Howl told distracted her, and soon, when they reached the top of the steps and he told the servant their names, she wasn't worried about being observed by these people sillier than those who frequent Market Chipping's pubs. As the servant bellowed, "The Royal Wizard Pendragon and his apprentice, Miss Sophie Jenkins!" she was only mildly uncomfortable by the attention. Far more interesting was the way that Howl had disguised her name by giving her his own. His true one. Her stomach flipped, but not entirely uncomfortably.

It almost distracted from the fact that he used "apprentice" as her title rather than "companion," as most other single gentlemen had done with the women accompanying them.

The ball was full of lights and spells and colors and drinks. Several came up to Howl, already a little tipsy, and true to form, Howl introduced her in a friendly manner before sweeping them in conversation that didn't require heavy discussion on Sophie's part. But quite a few people were kind rather than supercilious, so Sophie gradually became more comfortable.

A flamboyantly dressed man approached them. "Wizard Pendragon, Miss Jenkins, His Highness requests your time."

They excused themselves from their current company, following the man over toward the front of the ballroom, where the thrones sat. The King and his wife were there, but not in their thrones. Instead, they were near the steps, conversing with several people. The King smiled benevolently as Howl and Sophie approached.

"May I introduce our Royal Wizard Pendragon," he said to his group, "one of our most powerful individuals."

Howl bowed and said a nice little speech, which the others seemed to compete with using their own elegant monologues. They were not so long-winded as some of the servant boys from Kingsbury who came to call on Howl for a spell, but Sophie was still impressed and grew a bit more daunted. There was an old king and princess of High Norland, but to her surprise there was also the royal family from Strangia: the King and Queen and their daughter. Sophie, like many Ingarians would in her shoes, felt a bit of distrust. She hadn't remembered that the Strangians were coming. Animosity had been stirring between Ingary and Strangia for some time, through long discussions that never led to treaties and trading disagreements. Sophie disliked the Strangian clan instinctively more than the High Norlanders, though she was careful to be polite. High Norland was Ingary's prospective enemy as well, but Strangia and Ingary had built up more animosity.

"And may I present my apprentice, Miss Sophie Jenkins," Howl said, flourishing a hand in her direction.

Sophie noticed the King rose a brow at her last name and title but must have caught on to reasons why she had them. She only bobbed in a polite curtsy, a small polite smile on her lips.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Jenkins," the King of Ingary said.

The company then began to engage in polite conversations that seemed tense with an underlying thread beneath their words, pulled taut. Sophie wondered at this. After half an hour, the Queen of Strangia expressed a desire to dance, and so the ruling monarchs of Strangia and Ingary both went off to the ballroom floor. The King of High Norland, King Adolphus X, who had been eyeing some cakes and crumpets on a nearby table for much of the past hour, excused himself delightedly. This left Howl and Sophie in the company of the two princesses. Howl immediately asked Princess Beatrice of Strangia to dance, but Sophie assumed this was good politics. Princess Beatrice protested, however, explaining that she had two left feet, and claimed Princess Hilda of High Norland would most likely want to dance. Princess Hilda looked put out by this, but gave a challenging look in Howl's direction. He smiled charmingly and held out his hand.

As the two went out to dance, Sophie was alarmed to realize she was alone with the princess of her country's potential enemy. But she was far more surprised when the princess said, "Oh, thank God Hilda's such a trooper. If she'd disagreed I'm sure he would have asked me again. I know it's only politics and all that, but I can't abide these heels."

Sophie glanced around, but realized the princess was speaking to her and no one else. Apparently, everyone else was too daunted to approach the Princess of Strangia. "I'm not used to garments like these, either. Not that I'm comparing myself to a princess!"

Princess Beatrice shifted. "My parents forced me to come. I hate balls. I usually sneak out of the ones at home after an hour. I doubt I can do that here."

"The life of a princess sounds more difficult than I imagined," Sophie said.

"I don't mean to complain. No, that's not it-I do. I know there's plenty worse off than me, like those who work in the mines, but it can be awfully restricting. Anything with politics is. So when you see your suitor asking other ladies to dance, he's as obligated to do that as we are to oblige."

Sophie looked at her, horrified that she'd been found out.

Princess Beatrice's tanned face broke into a smile. "I wouldn't have known, except you came with him and you've been watching him dance with Hilda our entire conversation."

Sophie wanted to scurry away and lock herself in a closet somewhere.

"You haven't been his...'apprentice' for long, have you?" Princess Beatrice asked.

"No," she answered miserably. "I'm sorry," she added, though she didn't know what for.

"Then you're not used to all of this," she said, waving her hand out at the ballroom. "I'm sure he'd rather dance with - oh."

Princess Hilda was coming back, and Howl was dancing with some other girl. This girl was young and beautiful, with rolling locks of golden curls and a pretty little beauty mark right beneath her left eye.

"He's a nice dancer," Princess Hilda said regally, "but too eager with these new dances. I'd prefer more old-fashioned waltzes."

"Did that girl approach him?" Princess Beatrice said, giving a sidelong glance at Sophie.

"No. After I excused myself, I saw him ask her."

"Oh. She's not even royalty, is she? He hasn't any excuse. Even if you are an 'apprentice', he still has no obligation to hold off dancing with you until later. You ought to go dance with all sorts of men. I'd suggest your king's brother I've heard talk of, but I suppose the King mentioned he's up north at the moment. You might want to go by the desserts or something, though. I don't think many of your people will want to associate with you if you're by your country's enemies."

Sophie looked at her again in surprise.

"We are what we are, but hopefully this show of goodwill helps," Princess Hilda said. "None of us want to go to war."

"At least your father listens to you," Princess Beatrice said, scoffing. "My parents gave me so many tutors to educate me in leading a country, but now that I've long completed my studies, they still won't consider my opinion! Ingary's policies are not those I'd like in Strangia - excuse me, Miss Hatter - but aside from greed on both sides, there's no real reason for us to go to war. Absolutely ridiculous."

"You think your parents want to go to war with us?" Sophie asked.

Princess Beatrice hesitated. "No, it's not that they  _want_ to. It's just that they're like your king, I suppose: both parties see opportunities by conquering the other."

Sophie wanted to protest that the King of Ingary was  _not_ like that, but she thought of the way he calculated his way into orchestrating Howl becoming a Royal Wizard, whether Howl wanted to or not. The King didn't strike her as sinister, per se, but he did have a way about him that seemed to be conniving. She wondered if perhaps the King and Queen of Strangia were the same: opportunistic but not wicked. It was a tough thought for Sophie, whose patriotism felt rocked.

"To be fair," Princess Hilda replied calmly, "the King of Ingary has shown much more willingness to negotiate of late. He must have some good advisors, or good sense."

"Perhaps I ought to have been kinder to Wizard Pendragon, then," Princess Beatrice said dryly. The three of them noted that he was on his fourth dance.

Sophie refused to sulk. There had to be a good reason for all this. But now wasn't the time to storm up to him. "Would you excuse me for a moment?" she asked, just after Princess Beatrice suggested they grab some drinks. Almost as soon as Sophie abandoned the princesses, a well-dressed gentleman with his hair in a ponytail bowed to her and requested a dance. She agreed eagerly, too determined to be nervous. The dance wasn't one that would make Howl jealous, of course; she stepped on the man's feet thrice and he led them to bump right into another couple. But overall it was a success, and Sophie soon had her dance card filled with names. She danced for an hour before taking a break, tired but satisfied. The princesses had each danced a couple times, Beatrice more than Hilda, and they had briefly disappeared with their families to have a private audience with the King and Queen of Ingary, but Princess Beatrice was back alone, looking put out as she lounged in a chair by the thrones.

Sophie sought her out. "They didn't want your advice?"

"My father was very polite about it and said it wasn't fair to make a young princess sit through tedious meetings." The expression on Princess Beatrice's face was thunderous, her leg bouncing. She forced it still. "You looked like you were having some sweet satisfaction out there. I don't understand how your feet aren't in pain."

"I'm used to cleaning and standing in a shop," Sophie explained, sitting shyly when the princess motioned for her to do so. She reasoned that the chairs weren't actually thrones, so there was no disrespect given in doing so. "I've grown hardy, I suppose."

"He kept looking at you," Princess Beatrice said, nodding out to the floor. "I apologize for talking about your private affairs so much, but you see, I need to focus on  _something_ or else I'll fall asleep here in my chair."

"Did he?" Sophie asked, trying to find a balance of satisfaction, irritation, and excitement.

"And someone else keeps staring at the both of  _us_ now."

"Isn't that normal when one person is a princess?"

"But he's looking at you, too."

Sophie looked out, trying to follow Princess Beatrice's gaze.

"Good Lord, it's Mr. Collins."

It was, too. Sophie recognized the thin man loitering at the bottom of the steps leading to the thrones, a timid, hopeful grin on his face. For someone who had been broken off with in a very impolite manner, he looked pleased to see her. Sophie thought of Mrs. Pentstemmon's warning to her about Mr. Collins, but Sophie thought she owed it to him to be polite. Besides, she'd be more concerned if he looked resentful.

She excused herself and stepped down toward her ex-fiance. "Hello, Mr. Collins. I'm pleased to see you well."

"Miss Hatter, I'm pleased to see you as well!" he cried, with more enthusiasm than she remembered ever seeing from him. "I'd heard you'd gone missing, and I just want to say how very sorry I am for anything I may have done to cause you discomfort."

 _Huh_ , Sophie thought.  _That's unexpected._

"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Collins. There were many factors that led to me leaving. I'm doing quite well, though."

"Are you really?" He seemed so truly surprised that she felt strange and irritated.

"I am, despite being the eldest of three," she returned with only a hint of curtness.

_Aside from someone kidnapping and impersonating my stepmother, my sister being cursed, Howl being cursed, having to break off a fire demon's contract...The list goes on._

"Well," he said, a weak smile on his face. "That is a relief."

His eyes kept moving to the left.

"Yes, Mr. Collins?" Sophie asked, a little exasperated.

"Well," he said giddily, "if you'd be so kind-"

"There you are, Sophie. I've been looking everywhere for you."

A hand wrapped around her shoulders, and Sophie looked up at Howl in surprise. He smiled pleasantly at Mr. Collins, who stood a few inches short of him.

"Mr. Collins," he said, "the son of Collins & Co. I'm sure you've heard of it."

Howl raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Collins." He looked down at Sophie briefly before flashing the other man a grin. "No, I don't believe I have."

Mr. Collins flushed a bit. "Miss Hatter here was just about to introduce me to the princess of Strangia."

"Oh, I was, was I?" Sophie returned.

"I never knew you had such connections, Miss Hatter," Mr. Collins said, his color returning to normal.

"I don't," Sophie said curtly.

"It's fine."

The group looked up to see Princess Beatrice descending the steps. She looked at Mr. Collins critically.

"Princess Beatrice," Sophie said reluctantly, but knowing that the princess could handle herself. "May I present to you Mr. Collins. My ex-fiance."

Mr. Collins looked aghast that she'd revealed it, but Sophie kept her face carefully blank.

"An ex-fiance? You are an interesting creature, Miss -"

"Sophie," she said. "Please, call me Sophie." She didn't want any confusions with her surname.

"Princess Beatrice," Mr. Collins said, looking thrilled. "May I just say, it is an absolute honor to be in your presence." He bent down and kissed her hand for a few seconds longer than necessary. Beatrice snatched it away.

"Yes, well, kind of you to say so," the princess said. "Do you always ask your ex-fiancees to introduce you to other women, including royalty, Mr. Collins?"

Mr. Collins paled, then turned an ugly shade of red-purple. "Why - no - I mean to say - "

"You may wish to consider your sense of propriety," Princess Beatrice said severely. "Have you any interest in horseback riding?"

"I - no -"

"Do you like being outdoors, Mr. Collins?"

"No - "

"Then we'd be a horrible match. You look afraid of me, Mr. Collins. Is that because I'm Strangian or because I'm speaking so openly?"

"Er - "

"If I'm ever to find myself under the misfortune of being attached to someone, he'd better be a man with an intelligent mouth and mind, Mr. Collins. Good evening, sir."

"Well, I - "

"Good evening, Mr. Collins."

The man gaped, turned to Sophie with that fish-like look, then slunk away.

That proved it. Mr. Collins wasn't dangerous. He was just an idiot.

"Bravo," said Howl, sounding very impressed.

But the look Princess Beatrice shot him was not much kinder than the one she'd given Mr. Collins.

"Let's dance," Sophie said to Howl, surprising herself and him, if his wide eyes were anything to go by. He bowed deeply to the princess, who looked past him to give Sophie a look that said, "What strange taste you have," and then silently offered his hand to Sophie. They walked together to the ballroom floor and began to dance to a fast-paced waltz that threatened to undo Sophie's carefully pinned hair. It proved a nice outlet to her anxieties, and soon she found the reeling had her laughing, especially when Howl seemed to "punish" her when she accidentally stepped on his feet by veering off another direction to throw her off. Though he'd been strangely quiet, he soon broke out into laughter too, earning glances from others, who were apparently shocked to see Howl so free with laughter with one woman - Howl, who was notorious for attending to many women with a debonair act.

As the music was tamed to a slower rhythm, Sophie felt bold and comfortable enough to ask, "Why did you dance with so many women tonight?"

"My dear Sophie, are you jealous?"

There was that tone again. Good-humored, teasing, even a little honest - but all that was a blanket to cover something up. It was the tone he'd used all night with her.

"Are you hiding something from me?" Sophie dared to ask.

Howl looked at her, surprised - and pleading.

 _It's all right to be honest with him_ , she told herself.  _It's all right to believe in him_.

"Compared to a few days ago, you've just been awfully distant. I don't think you've ever been so distant, even when we first met," Sophie said, trying to make it sound light and not like she was attacking him like usual, because suddenly she wasn't sure if they'd stand a bickering session, not now, not when everything felt so taut and frail. She couldn't put her finger on what it was that made her feel this way, but she could feel whatever-this-was falling through her fingers like sand, even as she tried to keep it close to her chest.

They'd been barely swaying, and now they had stopped altogether. Howl kept looking at her like he was trying to he wanted to say something, but he wasn't running. Surely because he wasn't changing the subject or finding an excuse to walk alway, it meant they had hope.

He squeezed her hand in his tightly before loosening his grip, looking up at her with a false grin.

"My dear Sophie," he said, gently, "you know my reputation. Surely you didn't expect us to be serious after only a few kisses, did you?"

* * *

Sophie heard a soft knock at her bedroom door that night - or morning, rather, as it was past midnight. The door creaked open, and two sets of feet padded their way into her room.

"Sophie, are you awake?"

"How was the ball?"

"Did you dance?"

"Did you meet the royalty there?"

"Sophie?"

But she remained buried under her blankets, pretending to be asleep until the door closed behind them. She curled around a pillow.

It was now June 10.


	27. In Which Sophie Cleans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've arrived at the last bit I've posted so far on FanFiction.net. I hope you've enjoyed the ride thus far. I'll be finishing the story this summer, so I hope you keep checking back for updates. Thanks for reading!

Later that day, after finally getting a decent rest, Sophie began to clean.

It was what she was hired on to do anyway, after all, and she told Michael to man the store today. He must have seen she was not to be trifled with today, because he did so with not a peep. Everyone stayed out of her way, including Mrs. Fairfax, who was in the midst of contacting other witches across Ingary to aid in Fanny's relief effort.

Howl had gotten up early this morning to go to the palace to further partake in the political discussions with the visiting monarchs, and Sophie was glad - for his sake.

She scrubbed. She polished. She mopped. She hair kept falling unkempt out of its pinnings, and so she continually added barrettes and fastenings until her hair once more resembled a pincushion in a much more depressing parody of last night's fashionings. It didn't matter if anyone saw. She was just the cleaning woman, after all.

Sweat poured off her as she organized the bathroom. Calcifer was flared up about something, and she wished he'd knock it off. It was hot enough today; it felt downright like a sauna in here, with his carrying on and her working. Martha and Lettie had occasionally popped in to ask if she wanted any help, but she'd only dismissed them curtly, saying it was too hot for more bodies. Plus, she knew why they were really trying to help, and she didn't want to talk.

The thing was, she wasn't an idiot. There was no one to blame but herself, and she'd handle this with grace. She'd walked into this...thing with Howl with both eyes wide open. She'd known exactly what he was, even why he was the way he was. But a part of her had hoped...

Oh well. No point worrying about it. She wouldn't sit and cry or sulk. With all that was going on, this was honestly the easiest thing that had happened. Being rejected - and humiliated - was far better than having her sister be cursed, or her stepmother stuck with a psychotic witch. It was stupid that there was part of her to feel like pieces of her were crumbling inside, like her chest was constricted. And when she tried to put herself in check by thinking of all the other far worse things in her world right now, it made the ache increase a hundred times to the point where it needed to explode from her in some way, and so she imagined it pouring from her chest down into her hands and disappearing into the sweep of the broom or the scrub of a sponge.

No, she wasn't happy. But this was pride and feelings. It wasn't life or death. She'd handle this with grace.

She glanced in the polished mirror, blowing yet another stray hair away from her face. With a grim set mouth, she grabbed the last remaining barrette and fastened the stray hair in place. She looked appalling. So much for grace. Well...Good. No need to hold to any false hope - or worse yet, stupidity.

She thought of Fanny. Every part of her was bursting with nervous energy, and she wanted to grab those seven league boots Howl had fixed up a while back and stomp her way over to the Waste right now. With her foul mood, Sophie suspected she could take on the Witch, if only in determination and weed killer and frying pans.

Something occurred to Sophie last night, when she lay awake last night. This entire idea of wiggling Fanny out from the grasp of the Witch without spurring on a deadly battle or fulfillment of the curse was based on the time limit of the curse. Curses were powerful things. They were heavy for the bearer, which explained why the Witch had only done "small" violent things since placing the curse. But Midsummer's Day would soon pass, and even if Howl successfully didn't get caught in the curse, the Witch would no doubt still avoid him before letting her rage out in the form of yet another curse or worse - direct confrontation. Sophie, Howl, and the others had all been working under the assumption that if they could just avoid the curse, both Howl and Fanny would be safe, but that didn't account for an angry Witch. Midsummer's Day would leave nothing but uncertainty in its wake.

Howl wouldn't be courageous enough to confront the Witch, and so far all their attempts to find a spell that could somehow slide past the Witch's defenses, grab Fanny, pull her past those defenses without setting them off, and take her to the moving castle without harm had failed. She heard the girls - with Michael's help during lunch - try to do a spell. She only heard a gurgling sound that then wheezed and collapsed with a pathetic little whistle. Another attempt led to the smell of burnt honey and a frustrated Mrs. Fairfax. No one was in a good mood today. Everything was a disaster.

Sophie's head and heart were a mess. There was too much for her to properly sort out and organize, and she had always been a sorted-out, organized girl. Go to school. Help in the hat shop. Get Martha and Lettie settled in their internships. Get engaged. Those had all been logical, clear-cut steps, even if the last was a mistake. But the point was that they'd all been so clear, and now she felt as if she were all muddled. She felt as if her mind were divided and wanting to split into different directions.

Howl - a  _relationship_ with Howl - had been a mistake, a direction. It only muddled everything more.

Sophie grabbed the glass of water she'd set on the cleaned sink and drank deeply, wiping the sweat off her brow with her arm, feeling disturbingly like crying. She huffed at her reflection in the mirror, bared her teeth at it, and went back to work. She wanted to work off this nervous energy, clear her mind, feel the catharsis of a job well done - something she hadn't felt in a long time - sweep over her and grant her clarity once more.

And if she was too tired to stay up and hear Howl come home tonight? Well, so much the better.

* * *

She did sleep early - just after dinner. She cleaned the rest of the castle the next day, purging some more of that stress that had built up. But the morning after bore nothing but more anxiety and messy emotions, so Sophie announced she'd head out for a little short holiday for the day. She only said this to Calcifer, who was the only one awake, and he but dimly so.

"Wear a disguise," he yawned.

"Sod off," she grumped back, unfairly. But she threw on a cloak and headed out, too aware of the date - June 12 - looming.

She went to the capital, Kingsbury cool and tame this early in the morning. She made sure to stay off the main streets; she didn't want to encounter Howl. So she stayed mostly in the shopping area, looking at the various shops and considering their window displays and how she might incorporate them into the shop at home. The rest of the time, she spent skulking around and eating the various treats the vendors nearby sold. She'd worked hard the past few days, she reasoned, so it was all right. Each bite solidified that decision.

It was enough distraction that when she found a building with a sign reading "Collins & Co." she had to take a moment to savor the flavor of the bite in her mouth before processing where she was. With a groan, she turned on her heel and began to talk away when -

"Miss Hatter!"

"Confound it," she grumbled under her breath. At least she knew Mr. Collins wasn't dangerous; he'd been his normal foot-in-mouth self at the ball, and he seemed to have moved on to try and hunt a bigger fish in the sea. She turned around with a small but polite smile on her face. "Mr. Collins. I was surprised to see your business here in Kingsbury."

"We've newly expanded," Mr. Collins replied proudly as he got out of his carriage, taking in the sight of his business.

"How lovely for you." Then, abruptly, she realized he shouldn't have been able to identify her at all! With as much poise as she could muster, she snuck over to glance at the mirror on the carriage and noted with despair that she was looking exactly like herself. She'd grabbed a regular cloak instead of one that could disguise her. A string of swears and curses flew through her mind. She needed to hurry home. Oh, how she  _really_ didn't want to go home.

"This is actually quite providential, really!" he exclaimed. "I've been wanting to conference with you on some important matters. Would you come ride with me for a moment?"

"Oh, but doesn't your business need you, Mr. Collins?" she asked with a bright smile. "I'd hate to take you away from it."

"Not at all, not at all. The truth is, it's a well-oiled machine here. I've come just to take a glance at it. There," he said, looking pointedly at it, then back at her with a laugh. "I've done it!"

"So you have," she said with a tense laugh. "I'd better go - "

"No, please, allow me to drive you, Miss Hatter."

He wasn't going to let her go without her bespelling him, it seemed. "Fine," she said. "I mean, very well. Thank you."

She squirmed inside as she accepted his help entering the carriage, but she reasoned that being in the dim carriage with a dimmer man was better than wandering the streets of Kingsbury so boldly. She was lucky she hadn't been accosted by the Witch sooner.

"Where to?" Mr. Collins asked.

"Just to the main street, thank you. I'm meeting someone," she fibbed.

"And how funny, because I wanted to meet you!" Mr. Collins seemed practically bursting with energy - a bit odd for him, she thought - as he told the driver where to go and settled into his seat. "Do you know, it was such a delight to see you at the ball! I've been wanting to see you since!"

"Oh really?" she asked. She envied him his selective memory. She only recalled him being embarrassed and awkward. "I'm afraid I don't know any other princesses to introduce you to."

"Not at all," he said with a nervous laugh. "It was for the best, you know. Those Strangians are awfully uncouth, don't you agree, Miss Hatter? No, I'll hold off on princesses until business expands past the borders."

"You expect to have such a large expansion soon?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound pleasant, although she wouldn't fool most people that she was engaged in the conversation.

"Soon enough," he replied cheerfully. "I've got some powerful investors now, it turns out. But you've been quite difficult to catch hold of, Miss Hatter. You make a habit of vanishing so well!"

They shared a laugh at that, and then Sophie narrowed her eyes. "I'd best go. This spot is perfect, actually."

She tried the door.

It remained still.

"Odd," she muttered. But when she pressed on the handle again, it didn't even turn.

Only now did she sense the prickle of magic that lay beneath her hand.

Slowly, she turned to face Mr. Collins. "New business opportunities?" she said, her voice unpleasantly high and cheerful. "New investors?"

He had the nerve to look slightly apologetic. "My dear Miss Hatter, you certainly have mixed yourself up in some unpleasant business, haven't you? I'm sure the Witch won't do anything to harm you, but she would like to keep an eye on you. She wants you to get to Wizard Howl, you see. Is he the over-familiar wizard you were with at the ball? A little flamboyant for someone who's supposed to be so powerful. I don't suppose he's gotten your heart too, has he?"

She was glad Mr. Collins was talking so long. Throughout his speech, she'd whispered to the lock, the door, urging them to let up. But they refused to budge. It wasn't the lock or door that was enchanted - the whole vehicle was designed as a trap.

"And what's your angle?" she said, trying to sound confident and irritated and not at all worried. "What does helping her get to me give you?"

"Well, she'll take over Ingary, Miss Hatter." She wanted to slap the condescension off his face. "I'll get an economic advantage by helping her. And already, my business has quadrupled its earnings! Connections are helpful in business, Miss Hatter. It's a shame your stepmother didn't know that. She refused to help me or the Witch, and so she had to be...borrowed."

She'd been in the middle of considering kicking through the door when she was sidetracked.  _Fanny. If I stay here, I might see Fanny._

She remained firmly seated. Then she looked out the window. They were on the main street in Kingsbury, and her heart stopped when she saw the shop, though she kept her expression carefully blank. When they drove past it, her heart began beating in her chest again.

"Where are we going?" she asked dully.

"Well, I have to stop here, but you're off to see the Witch. Give her my good wishes, will you?" And then he had the nerve to pat her knee. She jerked away from him. "Don't worry, Miss Hatter. Once she gets the Wizard Howl, you'll be free to go. It'll just be for a few days."

"Mr. Collins?"

"Yes, Miss Hatter?"

"Sod off. Get out of this damned carriage without another word."

With the carriage still in motion, he opened the door and hopped out. She yanked the door shut, wishing she could slam it on his fingers.

This wasn't how this was supposed to go. But at least she was finally doing something to see Fanny.

The carriage blended in with the surroundings of the busy street until it disappeared entirely from the city.


	28. In Which Sophie Finds Fanny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to do weekly updates to finish the story this summer. Expect updates every week on or before Friday. Thanks for reading and commenting and dropping some kudos; it really inspires me to keep writing this story I started 11 (!) years ago. I just hope I'm not ret-coning myself. It's hard to keep track of what I've done in a story this old and long.

If Sophie had been a little less emotional, she may have noticed the quick transition from city to countryside to Waste. If she'd been a little less angry, she may have noticed the looming shape ahead and been afraid. But while there was fear, she'd hardened her heart to it. Anger pulsed through her, at Mr. Collins, at the Waste. And then it pulsed at little things: the steadily increasing heat, the dry dirt that swept through the cracks of the carriage, the bumpy ride that injured her tailbone.

Most of all, it pulsed at herself.

_How_ could she end up in this mess? She was stupid, absolutely stupid. She'd been warned about Mr. Collins, but she'd underestimated him. And she got too emotional and forgot her disguise. That was because she'd trusted Howl, which was because she'd gone off to his castle, which was because she'd let him persuade her. Her entire family got pulled into this mess because of her.

But at least she could try to save Fanny. Fanny, who was innocent in all of this. Yes, she'd tried to marry Sophie off to a greedy man who ended up colluding with the Witch of the Waste, but Mr. Collins probably wouldn't have even hurt Sophie.

The Witch was the one who'd set this all in motion, but Sophie was the one who'd directed her attention to the Hatters.

It was because she'd gotten too full of herself. She was the eldest of three. She'd believed life owed her something, that she deserved something greater, or at least try to obtain something greater. But she was a subpar witch who couldn't even hold the attention of the womanizing wizard Howl.

The mental self-flagellation worsened at the thought, but her anger ( _yes, anger; turn all your feelings into anger; don't be swept away by sadness or fear_ ) deepened to a cold stone in her chest. Right. Howl was notorious for the things he'd done with women, but he'd barely kissed her before he decided she was undesirable. He'd dismissed her so quickly, too. Even a skirt-chaser like him couldn't bother with her much longer. Really, that ought to say something about her.

All confidence she had gained in the past month and a half crumbled apart in her, but she wasn't utterly hopeless yet. She was a stupid,  _stupid_ girl, but she could do one thing right, at least. She dug the despair and frustration and humiliation deeper into her heart, but she didn't let them rage out of control as they so often did with her when she lived with Howl ( _lived with Howl - past tense_ ). Her emotions and illogical thinking had caused this mess. She hardened her heart more and more, using her feelings to make her cold and immovable instead of reckless and tempestuous. She couldn't afford otherwise. Howl wouldn't know she left; she'd told Calcifer she was taking a brief holiday. And even if he did - even if he and Mrs. Fairfax and her sisters and Michael all noticed she was gone - what could they do? They couldn't fish Fanny out. They wouldn't be able to get her out either, short of coming here themselves. And that would never happen - Mrs. Fairfax and Michael would make sure her sisters didn't do anything foolish. They were strong, stronger than she'd ever given them credit for, but two barely trained witches couldn't face off against the Witch of the Waste and rescue her and come out on the other side. Their magic relied on traditional spells, like Michael used, and a bit of honey. They couldn't carry all those tools with them for a rescue party without getting killed. Michael's magic was a bit more refined, but still used traditional ingredients. Mrs. Fairfax was good at defensive magic, not offensive.

The only person who had the slightest chance against the Witch was Howl, and Sophie knew he'd never come - for many reasons.

No, she was on her own for this one. She'd meant weeks ago to set off to go on a journey by herself, and now the desire had come to pass.

After the carriage stopped and the door swung open, revealing an orangeish page boy, she further steeled her wavering heart as she took in the castle, hot sand scalding her face. It oddly enough reminded her of the moving castle, the way it looked like pots were used as building blocks. She supposed it was thanks to fire demons. But what odd creations they made. At least Howl ha - at least the castle didn't feature pouty orange humanoids.

The page boy waited without a single twitch, and she sighed before growing resolute once more. "I ought to stay in this carriage and make you stay waiting in the heat," she said. "But it's still too hot in here." The page boy made no comment as she slid from her seat and stood on the rocky ground. "And you're awfully rude," she said, knowing full well she was sounding half mad, "for not helping a lady dismount from a vehicle."

The page boy only started walking toward the castle. When she didn't follow right away, its head abruptly swiveled backward, staring at her unnervingly.

She kept her steeliness, though her insides quaked at the sight. "No need to do all that," she said crossly, "I'm coming."

Anger was so much better than fear.

With each step she took, she thought of someone. Mrs. Pentstemmon, struck dead before her. Fanny, held prisoner here ( _alive - she's still alive, surely_ ). Richard Suliman, whose son had been contorted. Wizard Suliman, for being contorted and dumbstruck. The Prince, for the same.

Howl, whose curse ticked away at him.

She couldn't do much. But surely she could do something. She'd have to be the hero in her own story, since all the others had been bespelled or wouldn't venture near the Waste. Even if it all came to a tragic end, she had to save someone. Even if that someone wasn't herself.

Her resolute dignity remained with her and flared up when she saw the Witch, with long, golden hair and bright eyes, on a dark grand seat that posed as a throne. "Miss Hatter," said the Witch, "how good of you to come."

Abruptly, Sophie thought of the contract. If Howl broke the curse, would he one day end up like the Witch of the Waste? She saw disturbing similarities already, with the beautiful glassy eyes.  _If I die here,_ she thought with a sudden fear,  _how will the contract break?_

Another piece of her thought back _, You weren't doing much good anyway. Someone like Lettie could break it._

"How are you enjoying Mr. Collins' company?" she said, surprising herself a little by how focused and coldly she spoke.

The Witch blinked slowly at her, then laughed. It was as beautiful and empty as an abandoned spiderweb. "He  _is_ rather foolish, isn't he? But he served a purpose in being a forgettable face in the crowd. I understand you were engaged once? You would have made such a lovely couple."

Sophie wanted to spit at her like some uncouth barmaid, but set her mouth in a tight line instead. "Where's Fanny?" she asked.

"Who?"

She gritted her teeth. There was no point baring her fangs like a yipping dog against a viper. "My stepmother. Who you took. Weeks ago."

"Oh, yes! I knew she'd serve a purpose if I kept her alive. I thought several times of sending you little pieces of her as a token to remember her by, for I was quite put out that no one stopped by to visit her and I. But I sensed magic prodding away at my defenses, and I knew that it worked better to keep her in one piece."

"She's alive?"

The Witch made a gesture, and Sophie saw a room in the darkness with a greenish flame on both sides of the doorway. In the shadows Sophie could just make out a figure.

All her coolness vanished. "Fanny!" she yelled, running past the Witch into the room. It was a stupid thing to do, turning one's back to the Witch of the Waste, but Sophie could not help it. All she could think of was  _Fanny, Fanny, Fanny_. She skidded to a stop in the room, and then there was a clanging sound behind her as an iron gate slammed down behind her. She whirled back, glaring ferociously at the Witch, then turned to her stepmother.

Fanny had been a beauty, something Martha had inherited. Her hair was always well-kept and styled. Her face, even in the midst of overwhelming grief when Mr. Hatter died, had remained smooth and youthful. She'd been proud of her figure as well.

None of that was left. Sophie almost didn't recognize her. Her hair was only straggling strands. Her clothes were filthy, smelly and torn, and they now hung baggily on her frame. Her cheeks grown hollowed and skin so discolored that she looked violently ill.

"Fanny," Sophie whimpered, kneeling beside her unconscious stepmother. Fanny's arms were chained to the wall. Her neck was bent uncomfortably against the corner of the wall. It straightened now as Fanny groaned, sitting up a little. Her eyes blinked dully at Sophie, and for a brief, horrific moment, Sophie feared that while Fanny's body lived, her soul was gone. But then Fanny's cracked, thin lips rasped, "Sophie?"

Sophie suddenly reverted to who she was long ago - before the Witch entered their lives, or Howl, or Mr. Collins, or even her father's death. She became a small child, one who'd been just a little reserved under the idea that this was not her mother, but a stepmother, no matter how early Fanny entered their lives. But that reservation had fled far away with her stoic demeanor, and Sophie couldn't help crying as she flung her arms around her stepmother - her  _mother_.

"Oh, Sophie," Fanny whispered. "Have I gone mad?"

"Thank God you're alive! I knew you had to be, or  _she_ would rub it in our faces."

Sophie stopped crying quickly and went back to being angry as something orange and blobby dripped from the walls and grabbed her limbs, whipping her around and pulling her close to the wall. "Ouch!" she snapped as her head banged against the wall, which reminded her of when those disgusting men from Howl's realm accosted her. The blob holding her solidified into shackles. Sophie then thought of the orange page and shivered. "This isn't from a real person, is it?" she demaded of the Witch, who was looking through the barred gate with a peaceful little smile that chilled Sophie's blood.

"Of course not. It's merely a creation of mine," the Witch tittered. Then she surveyed them. "I suppose your stepmother can leave now. I've no further use for her."

Sophie thought quickly. It seemed like a good idea, and her head hurt from all her feelings and thoughts the past few days, but her impetuousness always got the better of her. It was too good an offer. So she thought and considered, then said, "No, thank you."

Both Fanny and the Witch stared at her.

"I'd be lonely without her," Sophie said primly. "I want to catch up."

Fanny, to her credit, did not protest Sophie's wishes, but did stare at her in confusion.

The Witch laughed then, fully and heartily. "What a selfish little girl you are! You'll have to split your food portions. I've no desire to get extra."

"That's fair," Sophie said. Then she said, "But all three of us can eat, if you pick up food for us. If you can conjure up a kitchen, I can cook."

"You're quite the helpful little kitchen rat, aren't you? No, I eat out often and I've no desire to let you free to cook. You don't quite seem to understand your position here, Miss Hatter. You're here as a prisoner, not as a servant, nor as a guest." She looked at a small watch. "I'm sure it won't be too long before Howl makes his way over here. I ought to get my errands done before then. After all, I want to be looking my best for our reunion."

And then the Witch was gone.

Sophie waited a few minutes, then sighed. "I'm glad we have some time to ourselves. Has she hurt you?"

"I'm just thirsty and hungry," Fanny said. Then she began to weep. "Oh, Sophie, I'm so sorry you've been caught up in this mess! It's all my fault."

"No," Sophie said shortly. "It's mine. I got involved with Howl. I went out to seek my fortune."

"She mentioned you'd gotten caught up with Wizard Howl. But darling, I'm the one who introduced you to Mr. Collins!"

"Who wouldn't have been a threat if I hadn't left home."

"You wouldn't have needed to leave home if I'd actually  _talked_ to you and  _listened_ ," Fanny said bitterly. "You never even wanted to meet him. But in my own way, I was trying to think of you, dear. I thought you'd be financially secure, and I knew you didn't adore working in the hat shop. But I botched the whole thing up."

Sophie stared at her stepmother, then let out a little smile and "Heh."

At Fanny's incredulous look, she quickly said, "No, it's only that - well, we're pretty similar. I keep trying to do the right thing, and it turns out all wrong."

Fanny smiled unhappily. "What a thing to take after me for." Then even that false smile fell away. "Sophie, that -  _thing_ that caught me made herself look just like me. Martha and Lettie, are they all right? I barely know anything that's gone on, even with that braggart boasting."

Sophie supposed they had time, so she told the whole story - even the details she hadn't shared with Lettie and Martha about her and Howl. Fanny had always lamented how serious she was and how she never went out with boys. Sophie thought it might at least amuse Fanny a little to know that her eldest daughter had finally had a relationship (of sorts) in the midst of hiding from the Witch.

But Fanny grew ferocious. "How dare he treat you that way!" She broke off, coughing dryly into her filthy sleeve. She grabbed a small cup, only halfway filled with water, and took a careful sip. It was clear she'd gotten into the habit of rationing. "If I meet him," she then rasped, "I'll ruin that womanizing face of his."

Sophie was shocked. Fanny had never spoken in such a way, but then, Fanny had never had to stick up for her honor, or be a prisoner of the Witch of the Waste. "Well, try not to do that, because you'll be meeting him soon."

"Dear, I fear he may not come."

"Oh, he wouldn't," Sophie said, gritting her teeth a little. "But you're going to him."

"How, Sophie? I assure you, there's no way for us to get out of here. I've had plenty of time to try. And you requested I stay with you. Oh - not that I'm bitter about that. I'd trade your imprisonment for my own. I am confused, though. It's not like you."

"Oh, that. Well, I don't trust the Witch. She'd say she'd set you free, but she'd either use you as a pawn, really set you free, or kill you. I can't know for sure which route she'd pick. But if  _I_ set you free, then you have a much better chance of getting out of here unscathed."

Fanny smiled sadly at her, her cracked lips bleeding from the effort. "Sophie, you can't help me. You're as powerless as I am."

Sophie gave a bitter smile back. "I've been pretty useless this whole time, but I did mention that I'm a witch, didn't I?"


	29. In Which Headless Bodies are Helpful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still made it by my weekly deadline! It was rough going with this chapter, possibly because it was already written one way years ago and I had to change it so much to reflect new ideas and what happened previously in the story. Enjoy, and please keep the comments coming! They make my day!

Some time later, Sophie realized she had no idea what day it was. She thought perhaps time moved differently in the castle. It seemed like one day in there could encompass several in the outside world. Perhaps this magic helped keep the Witch young.

Sophie cared only because of Howl's curse and the fact that she was impatient and bored. The Witch had stayed close to the castle, petulant that Howl had not yet come. Sophie was (mostly) glad he hadn't; while a part of her hoped it was merely because he thought she was taking an extended holiday, she knew either way he wouldn't show. But she was growing antsy.

"What's the date, Witch?" she called, eyeing her through the bars.

The Witch was applying lipstick in front of one of her many mirrors. Her vanity was worse than Howl's, if that was possible. "June 18," she chirped. She conjured a few gowns. "Tell me, Miss Hatter, is a dark green color more pleasing to Howl these days, or lavender? I'd like to look my best for our reunion, after all. We used to be the most passionate of lovers."

Sophie grit her teeth, but tried to hold back her temper. She could not afford to waste energy. Her tongue felt dry and heavy, and her stomach was in constant turmoil.

The Witch then pouted in the direction of the exit. "He really ought to have come by now. Perhaps I overestimated his affection for you."

"That you did. Besides," she said, "I'd said I'd be on holiday. He probably thinks I'm just taking a break from him."

The Witch beamed at her. "Why didn't you say so? Well, we'll just rectify that." She thought for a moment, tapping her chin. "No...too showy...Well, a simple letter ought to do."

The dungeon filled with light, making Fanny, who'd been resting, wince and making Sophie go half-blind for a moment. On her lap was a board and on top of that, a pen and paper.

"You'll write it yourself," the Witch said. "That ought to make him come. You do know your letters, don't you?"

Sophie thought she'd done rather well, holding her tongue. But this made her snap, " _Yes_ , I know my letters."

Without waiting for the Witch to comment, she began writing.

Once she was done, she announced it and the letter flew from her lap to the Witch's hand. The latter read it silently.

**~~Dear~~ Howl,**

**I'm currently at the Witch of the Waste's castle. Fanny's alive. Don't bother coming, it's really not so bad here. It's tidier than your castle. I think the Witch is better company than listening to your histrionics. Just stay away.**

**Sophie**

"Rubbish," the Witch said, and fire erupted from her hand, disintegrating the sheet immediately. "The point is to get him desperate to come here. Try again."

Another sheet of paper arrived on her lap desk, and Sophie gritted her teeth. She supposed it was too much to hope that the Witch wouldn't read the letter. Howl could be soft-hearted at times; she didn't want to make it so he really did feel he had to come. But the Witch wouldn't let it go unless it was dramatic enough. If she could just maybe make it dramatic enough that he would know she was telling him to stay away, that she was forced to write this...In fact, the fact that she had to write this at all meant the fulfillment of the curse was not a guarantee...

**Howl,**

**I'm so tired from sobbing I can hardly write this letter. Fanny's alive, but we barely get anything to eat or drink. We might expire before Midsummer's Day. I'm constantly ill. The place is filthy and terrifying spiders crawl across the floor.**

Sophie glanced past the Witch to the throne she could now clearly see in the light, where a headless man sat - no doubt the leftovers of Prince Justin and Wizard Suliman. She shivered. It was vile. But she was glad to clearly see it now; she'd suspected it was somewhere in the castle, and this would make her plan work much better.

**There's a headless man here and it's horrific. Howl, please save me from this place!**

Perhaps that was a little overboard. Even the Witch wouldn't buy this. It was time to make it a bit more realistic.

**I hate to admit it, but I really miss you. I want to come home.**

**Yours,**

**Sophie**

"Done," she said, and the letter was whipped away. She buried her head in her hands, trying to look devastated, like this letter confessed all she had been secretly feeling. In reality, she was just peeved and embarrassed. If Howl actually reacted to this letter, she'd be both slightly touched and absolutely furious, because that meant he knew nothing about her at all. It would serve him right to be caught by the Witch. 

After the Witch had a hearty laugh at her expense, she went off somewhere, no doubt to deliver the letter once she was done. Sophie waited a few minutes, just in case the Witch came back quickly. When she didn't, Sophie said, "Fanny. Fanny, wake up. It's time."

Fanny sat up, wincing at the lights that still beat down on them. The temperature was rising as a result. It probably wouldn't take long for the room to feel like the Waste outside. "Sophie, dear, are you sure this will work?"

She shrugged. "What choice to we have?" She grabbed hold of Fanny's sleeves. "Listen, clothes. Do well and keep Fanny nice and cool - er, never mind. Keep her at a nice, comfortable temperature. It would be a blight on you if your owner passed out and got sand and dirt all over you. Understand?"

Fanny looked down in amazement. "Perhaps I'm mad, but I think they  _listened_ to you."

"I've a way with inanimate objects. Thankfully, I don't think the Witch knows that. She's used to more showy magic like she and Howl do, the type that usually requires ingredients. Which means you should be able to sneak out with little problem."

Fanny looked at her sharply. "What about you?"

"Two of us can't ride that. I'm not even entirely sure if one of us can." She gestured to the headless man.

Fanny saw it and went pale. "What about  _you_?" she repeated.

"I'll find a way. I'm just focusing on one thing at a time - "

"I won't go unless you come with me."

For someone who looked so weak, Fanny seemed remarkably determined. Sophie appreciated this, and her heart warmed, but she allowed some irritation and exasperation into her voice as she said, "Fanny, I love you for it, but I can't focus on getting both of us out at the same time. With you out of harm's way, I can focus on myself. All right?"

"I don't - "

"Please just trust me."

Something in Sophie's face must have convinced Fanny, because after a minute she sighed. "But do I have to ride that thing?"

"I need it delivered to Howl anyway."

"That man - "

"I did some thinking over the past few days," Sophie confessed, giving Fanny the last of the water and bread for today to sustain her through the journey. "I think I understand why things went the way they did. So don't bully him too badly. I've been seeing lately how the three of us girls have gotten as strong-headed as we have."

She smiled brightly, a little falsely, and Fanny hesitantly did the same. The chains around them were lax enough to allow a long hug and kiss to be exchanged before Sophie gathered herself. Eyes flashing, she glared at the headless being across the hall.

"You're not alive, so this ought to work," Sophie grunted, trying to wet her lips for easier speech. "Listen well, you bodies merged into one! You are going to stand and act just like any other normal body. You are going to walk and move and carry just as well as the rest of them - better, even. Go on and stand now."

The fingers twitched, and with jiggling limbs like a puppet, it slowly stood, trembling all over.

"There's a good body. Well done. I'm sure it feels like a welcome relief from sitting all the time with all those pointy sticks holding you up, doesn't it? Go on and stretch and grow used to it. Good. Now, are you able to tell that there are two women across the room?"

The entire body bowed and rose.

"Good. That makes things easier if you can sense things. You are to carry this one to Wizard Howl's moving castle. Knock on all the doors until someone answers. They will let you both in because you will be surrounded with my magic, not just the Witch's. Help them sort you out. Do you understand? There will be severe consequences if you do not do this. Will you do it?"

The body bowed again, giving her an uncomfortable view of the emptiness inside its collar. She thought she might have seen its spine. It was just as well that she had not eaten much in ages, or she might have thrown up.

"Very good," she cooed. "You're very strong. Can you carry both of us?"

It twisted left and right, as if stretching, but Sophie knew it was a conclusive "no". Her heart sank, but she had figured this was a possibility.

"Very well. Come on over."

Moving almost as well now as any other body, it strode over to the bars of the cell, tilting its body in a confused manner.

"I'm getting to it," Sophie said crossly, turning her attention to her manacles. "First, the chains. Listen here, chains! You let go right now! You want to be as free as we do, so open up!"

The shackles clanked, almost groaning with effort, but Sophie still could not free her hands.

Fanny looked at Sophie worriedly, but Sophie looked back at the chains immediately. She was tired, hungry, and she'd tried to keep it together so well for the past few days. This setback was possibly minor; if she could get a mishmash of bodies moving, surely a chain was possible to break. But all her emotions clamored to the surface, dampness threatening her eyes.

_Failure. Eldest. You can't even do this..._

She was growing reckless again. If her emotions took over and she couldn't steer them to use in a productive manner, she'd be in real trouble. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deep, then sighed it out. Once she felt a little less upset and a little more annoyed, she considered her options. How could she get the headless man to move, but not break a chain? Both were inanimate, and the man ought to be harder since he was once two different people - and living. And with the Witch's magic sewing him together...

"That's it!" she said, making Fanny jump. But Sophie was talking to herself now, not Fanny. "The man was magicked, but not to stay on the throne. This entire wall and the chains are all the Witch's own creation. So...so maybe if I try something different..."

Sophie went to work. She tried begging the chains to disconnect from the wall, but that didn't work. She then tried asking the links to unlock, but they couldn't cooperate. By this point, she was frustrated indeed. "Look here," she snapped. "You can't just undo yourself since I'm not the one who cast you, right? But can't you at least stretch out so we can slide our hands out of you, and then you can shrink back to how you're supposed to look? Then you're not really undoing what the Witch cast you as, right? So cooperate and stretch, blast you!"

She grabbed one manacle and pretended it was a bracelet, the type she had as a girl that stretched so you could pull it off, instead of latching and unlatching. Gradually, like putty, it began to stretched. Fanny and Sophie cheered as the latter pulled out her wrist, then got to work on the other before working on Fanny's. Within minutes, both were free. Fanny's wrists were scabbed and red, but she hugged Sophie tightly and said, "Brilliant, brilliant girl! And to think I never paid you your due at the shop! Why, it's no wonder our hats sold so well!"

"We're not done yet," Sophie said, but she was grinning too. She was beginning to feel more steady in herself, though she was growing tired. "Bars, you saw what the manacles did. Now, you stretch for us too so we can climb out!"

She repeated the command a few times as she grabbed two bars and pushed them both to either side. They were more accommodating than the manacles; they stretched quickly. Fanny crouched down and slipped beneath Sophie's outstretched arms, and then Sophie followed her. The bars went back with a loud clang. Both women jumped, but the Witch did not come storming in.

With Fanny yelping, the headless man picked her up with some effort, and came back to Sophie.

"Very nicely done!" she said. "Now, I want you to run to Howl's castle. You will run as fast as possible and not need to stop for any breaks. You will run extremely fast, do you hear? And the Witch and her minions will not stop you. Now go!"

The body turned and ran toward the one corridor in the great room, the one which Sophie thought led to the doors. It ran with all its strength, and at the same time Sophie lost hers, collapsing to her knees. Then she leaned back and laid on the floor. Half of her felt outstanding relief. Fanny would survive. But the other half felt heavy with dread. There was no way she could find her own escape route while she was this drained. She needed a minute. Or an hour.

Perhaps the Witch would not kill her when she returned. She had had no more use for Fanny anyway, now that Sophie was here as more effective bait for Howl. But with the body being gone, and Sophie herself being free...

There was no doubt now that the Witch would realize it was the doing of magic.

For the first time in a while, Sophie was terrified.


	30. In Which Deliveries Are Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I think the line "I like me better when I'm with you" from Lauv's "I Like Me Better" absolutely applies to how Howl feels about Sophie. Another fun fact: The chapter where Sophie is dumped at the ball made me think of the song "Dancing With Our Hands Tied" by Taylor Swift.
> 
> In other news, thank you SO much for all the support. I love hearing your thoughts and comments. It makes my day!

Days after Sophie's disappearance, Howl sulked by the hearth, feeding one log after the other. Occasionally, he worked in the shop, but even the flirtatious girls did nothing to remove the somber look from his face. The girls did not mind. They found it dashing and mysterious. Michael and Lettie occasionally thought he did it on purpose, but he behaved just the same way in the castle.

He'd started out as merely glum when he'd come home and found out from Calcifer that Sophie had taken a break from them all (read: from him). But it worsened as the days passed. He lost all his theatrics and seemed far too calm and rational. He neglected Michael's teaching. All of the honey in the world did not cheer him; heaven knew Mrs. Fairfax tried making the most delicious desserts for him. What Howl did not eat, the others munched on.

"It's a little scary," Michael said as the others observed him. "I've never seen him like this. I expected him to sulk, but this is...There hasn't even been any green slime?"

"Green slime?" repeated Martha, while Mrs. Fairfax murmured, "Where could Sophie have gone? She left a note last time, hadn't she?"

"It's not like her," Lettie humphed, glaring at Howl's back as if it were all his fault - which very well could be. Her brow softened as she looked at Wizard Suliman. "Are you certain your magic can't work?"

He shook his head dully, his bland expression set.

"Well, boo on that," Martha sighed, popping another pastry in her mouth. "But why on earth would Sophie just leave like this without even talking to me or you, Lettie? The Witch couldn't have taken her, could she? I feel like she would be the type to rub it in."

"Oh yes, she would," Lettie scowled. She was anxious, and that was making her irritable. "That's what I don't understand about all this. But Howl was ignoring her, I suppose."

"Her feelings for Wizard Howl aren't so strong as that, are they?" Martha asked quietly.

"It's what I was hoping to prevent," Lettie sighed before hobbling over to Howl. "You. Do something."

"Hmm?" Howl said. He sounded about as out of it as Wizard Suliman and Prince Justin. He looked as if part of him was missing.

Calcifer flared up and reached for the log Howl had lifted towards him before he was distracted. Crackling with contentment, the fire demon said, "I've tried telling him. Nothing works."

"You haven't been trying hard enough then," Lettie sniffed. "I'd like to think I'm about as strong-minded as Sophie."

Howl looked dolefully up at her. "Would you mind not mentioning her? She's gone. She's moved on."

"If she left you because you're a childish exploiter, I'm happy for her," snapped Lettie. "But I for one would like to have an opportunity to chew out my older sister who was so negligent as to leave us wondering where she is for two days without any word. Do a searching spell, Howl. There isn't enough honey for me or Mrs. Fairfax to do anything with a large range, and Michael's still not able to do much further than search across the street of Market Chipping. And things are dangerous, so if you do not do something I will make life very difficult for you. Do not think you're the only one who can throw tantrums."

"Does bossiness run in the veins of all the women in this family?" Howl sighed, but he did stand, which was progress.

"For heaven's sake," Lettie growled, stomping over to her chair and sitting down.

Howl did the necessary procedure, but it was obvious he did not not have the usual slapdash manner he always possessed. He was very careful and calculating, impatiently brushing the blond hair from his eyes as he leaned over the table and requested different things for Michael to run and deliver to him. The room filled with smoke, and the spell let out some popping sounds before seeming to settle and point to the south.

Howl suddenly let out a very loud curse, the likes of which left Martha very impressed and eliminated some of the vacancy in the other wizard and prince's expressions.

"If it's pointing south," Michael ventured, then paused, glancing at him anxiously, "that could mean south from any of our locations, right?"

"No," he snapped, disassembling the spell. "It's only set to be where the actual castle is located. Botheration!"

Martha cut in. "What is wrong with it pointing from the south?" She knew full well, but fear fostered denial.

"It means," Howl said, jumping towards the door, "I've got to rescue that fool Sophie!"

"Wait!" Michael yelped, holding onto him and pulling him back. Prince Justin and Wizard Suliman, despite their bewilderment, helped, even as Howl attempted to pull away.

"What do you think you're doing, Michael?" Howl barked.

Michael might not have been as clever as some people, but he had enough sense to look at this from the right angle. "Think about it, Howl! If you go out there, you're heading straight into the Witch's trap!"

"You think I don't know that?" Howl bellowed back. "I'm scared to death! But Sophie's out there!"

But before he could do much more, a knock came from the door. A letter slid beneath it. Everyone stared at it.

"It's not cursed," Calcifer said at last. He was leaning out of the hearth, little ashes sliding beneath him as he craned his non-existent neck to see better.

Howl slowly moved and picked it up, using a letter knife to slide open the envelope. Everyone gathered to read, and Michael read obligingly aloud for Calcifer to hear, his voice cautious and worried.

Then they all silently read it again, and again. Lettie and Martha looked ready to go to war, despite their shaking. Mrs. Fairfax looked horrified. Michael's brow was knit in concern, and then he worriedly looked to Howl lest there be green slime. Wizard Suliman and Prince Justin only stared blankly at the sheet. And Howl -

Howl burst out laughing.

Mrs. Fairfax pulled Lettie back from throttling him.

"Sophie was right," Martha whispered to Michael. "He does have a personality disorder."

"Busy little fool, unruly Sophie!" Howl crowed. "She's warning us off! She dislikes my spiders, but she's used to them by now. They wouldn't scare her in the Waste. The rest is too dramatic; she'd yell at me if I wrote something like that. She's telling me to stay put. The Witch must've gotten her to write it since we've been loitering here..."

Howl's smile fell. "She's been there too long."

"The Witch must be trying to lure you in by using her. She'll keep Sophie alive. But she won't if you mess up," Calcifer pointed out, his voice a quiet, somber hiss of steam.

"How depressing," Howl said, but instead of dramatic, his voice was brittle and frayed, like his patience and nerves. "My own fire demon doesn't have enough faith in me to believe I can rescue the damsel in distress."

"My mother." Everyone turned to Martha. Her shoulders were quivering, but she was doing a remarkable job keeping the tears in her eyes at bay. "You need to save my mother, too. That - _censored_ \- old cow has two hostages. That makes it all the harder."

"Martha," Michael said, half consolingly and half surprised at her language, which shall not be repeated for delicate ears.

And then everyone began talking, half whispered conversations at first, as if they were paying respects...as if they were at a funeral. And then their volume increased little by little, resuming a normal level. And then they began bickering, trying to figure out the best way to handle this without getting one or more people killed. Someone remembered Sophie mentioning meeting Wizard Suliman's father - the wizard seemed to perk up vaguely at this, like an old, deaf dog barely making out the squeak of a toy - and then they began planning how to amass as large a gathering of witches and wizards as they could to combat the Witch of the Waste.

No one deemed it necessary to point out that the reason the Witch had never been stopped previously was because witches and wizards did not often work together, few were powerful (as seen by the fact that there were only two Royal Wizards), and it was highly unlikely that those who did gather together could stop the Witch.

The only person who barely spoke was Howl. He aided with searching spells for the other witches and wizards, but most, like him, kept their locations deeply hidden. The league of witches and wizards fell apart before it even was formed.

Eventually, everyone trailed off to bed, most to an unrestful night's sleep. No one noticed the odd silence coming from Howl.

* * *

He woke up early, after a brief but slightly helpful sleep. He didn't bother showering, just put on slacks and a shirt. It was nothing showy, but easy to wear. He stepped quietly, peeking out his window. It was almost dawn in Wales, and here as well. He looked at the green swath of yard below and the playground equipment. It had been vacant for quite some time. He was glad. It meant they were staying far away from Rivendell. He was glad he'd seen them one last time.

It was June 19th. It was gray and foggy in Wales, but it was often gray and foggy in Wales. Ingary tended to be a little brighter, at least. He hoped it was today. He wanted what might be his last day to be a good one.

He'd done research long after he'd retired to his room. Distant teleportation spells. Words of power. Battle spells. Hallucinogenic spells. Mrs. Pentstemmon would have been proud of his studying. It was a shame he was so lackadaisical when he worked under her. He'd been passionate but lazy, goofing off rather than diligently doing his work. Things came easily, so he never pushed himself. If he'd worked harder then, pushed himself, would he be more able to face the Witch?

If this was how things were going to end, he wouldn't have bothered trying to deceive Sophie and put distance between them. He wouldn't have ignored her, nor would he cheerfully tease her to make her mad, a type of acting in itself. He'd wrap her up in his arms and kick everyone else in the castle out and beg her to stay with him for as long as they both shall live, and tell her how beautiful she was when she glared, her eyes sparkling...when she was hard at work, sweat beading and stroking her cheek as it drifted down...when she was worried and bit her nails, leaving an uneven stub behind...when she gave in and smiled and lit the room more than Calcifer ever could...

He'd never met a woman who had such a strange blend of deception and truth. His old college roommate, the one who'd gone to anime conventions in London and made his laptop background an animated woman with a chest that was unhealthily large compared to the size of the rest of her, would have dubbed Sophie a  _tsundere -_ prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside. But that didn't fully describe Sophie. Nothing described Sophie. She was a force of her own.

He loved her. Once she left, and he thought she was safe but had left due to him, he'd known it. He'd suspected, but once he came home and she was gone, he felt his heart - as unattached as it was - constrict painfully. Calcifer had complained horribly from the sensation. Howl had tried to throw away all his emotions, every piece of him that wanted nothing more than to go out searching for her across all of Ingary, but knew he couldn't - not until the Witch was gone. And even then, he knew full well that he probably would never win her back. He'd hurt her too badly. And he could not blame her. Any trust she'd built for him was hard won and mostly despite his own actions; she had trusted him to be honest and admit when he was through with her, and he'd thrown her away.

But things were different now. Sophie was in danger, and it was his fault, and all he could think of since last night was that he wouldn't mind being caught by the Witch if it set Sophie free. Even if the curse wasn't fulfilled, that didn't mean the Witch would let Sophie go - at least not alive. He realized that last night, even though no one else seemed to. Let's say that he broke the curse. If he didn't defeat the Witch of the Waste - and her fire demon - there was no difference made except he was a little tricker for them to catch. Sophie - and Fanny - would still be held captive, if not killed. Midsummer Day was no longer the deadline for the Witch, but for Sophie as well.

Howl thought about getting dressed nicely as he silently left the bedroom after a fond look at the spiders busying themselves in the left corner near the door. After all, this was most likely his last day. But he didn't have the energy, and he didn't want Sophie - or Fanny - to wait any longer than they needed to. It didn't matter. He just wanted to see her one last time.

Well, and free her. Freeing her was more important, naturally.

He was about to creep out the door when he realized he needed to eat first. It would do no good fighting on an empty stomach. As he got some bread and a sliver of cheese, Calcifer opened his eyes. "You're going after her, aren't you."

"Surprised?"

"You look hungover."

"Sod off. I didn't touch a drink." Despite every desire to, honestly.

"That's just how you look then? I always thought you tossed your women aside, but maybe they just woke up in your bed and saw how you really look and ran out on their own accord."

Howl gave a wry smile. "You wound me, old blueface." He downed his glass of water like it was the whiskey he craved.

Silence stretched between them a moment. "I'll give you as much power as I can," Calcifer said. "I won't be able to defend the castle, though."

"I'm bringing the fight to her, so I doubt she'll attack us anyway." Howl then glanced up at Calcifer, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing. "If I go down, you do too. I'm sorry I couldn't break the contract."

"I was supposed to die a few years ago. It's no bother." But then Calcifer shrank to a small flame. "That's not true."

"What's not?"

Calcifer looked like a small puff of air might snuff him out. "I don't want to die," he confessed. "I like living."

"Cheers to that," Howl said, but felt the dull emotion of guilt chew at him. "I can't leave her - them - there, Calcifer."

"I know. I don't blame you. Just don't do anything exceptionally stupid."

"Define 'exceptionally.'"

"What you're doing is already awfully stupid," Calcifer deadpanned, growing closer to his usual size. "Don't do anything  _additionally_ stupid. Be as un-stupid as you can. You were sometimes almost intelligent. Bring that back."

"Don't say 'were' like I'm already six feet under."

"I'm saying 'were' because you've been incredibly dense."

"I don't feel bad if you die now," Howl said brightly.

They grinned at each other, a little ferociously. Then Howl tossed the rest of his half-eaten bread into the hearth. "It's been a ride, Calcifer."

"Try not to kill us, you skinny mortal."

Howl headed for the door.

"Howl."

He turned around.

Calcifer grinned widely. "Perhaps the Witch will give up the whole thing once she sees your face."

"I can still dump some water on you."

But Howl felt a little better, enough so that he dimly felt ashamed of his looks. Just as he was heading for the door again, a loud knock made him jump. Howl whipped around and looked at Calcifer, who looked like he was squinting in focus.

"The Witch?" Howl dared to ask.

"There's a hint of her magic, but..." Calcifer's eerie eyes widened. "It's mostly Sophie's."

Without further thought, Howl threw the door open. For a moment, he saw Sophie's red-gold hair, her lovely lips tilted in a scowl, gray dress hanging unflatteringly on her body.

The vision was quickly dashed when he realized he was staring at a headless corpse carrying a...woman?

Thoroughly disturbed, Howl stumbled back as the corpse pushed its way in. The only reason he didn't try shoving it back out was 1) he was rather afraid to touch it; and 2) the corpse was practically  _drenched_ in Sophie's peculiar magic. The corpse thoughtfully set the woman on a chair before crumpling into a lifeless heap on the floor.

The woman looked to be in her late 30s, and her hair was not reddish at all. Howl's heart caved in a little, making Calcifer complain. But then the woman blearily blinked around, and rasped for some water.

Immediately, Howl gathered a glass for her, and the woman drank slowly first, then downed it before asking for more. It took three drinks before the woman seemed alert enough to wipe the sweat from her face and look at Howl. "Are you Wizard Howl?"

"Yes, ma'am." He suspected he ought to be very polite to this woman.

"I'm Fanny, Sophie's stepmother. Who'd have known her magic was so wonderful - that she had magic at all?" She looked around, dazed for a moment. No doubt the castle was very dark this morning, compared to what she'd been exposed to in the Waste.

Howl blinked. "You're Sophie's -  _Sophie_ sent you?" Without caring if he woke anyone up, he cheered loudly, grabbed Fanny's sunbaked hand, and kissed it jubilantly before shaking it heartily. "It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hatter. I'm glad you're safe. How far behind was Sophie?"

Fanny seemed bewildered, and her face, despite being unrelated by blood to Sophie, seemed to mimic her expression when she was between being put out and pleased. "Well, I don't know. Sophie wanted me safe first, before she could do anymore. But surely it took so much magic to get us here..."

Howl's heart ached again, but too many thoughts were crossing through his mind. "And the, er...?"

"Oh, him?" Fanny said, looking with a shudder at the body on the floor. "I haven't the faintest. He was propped up in the Witch's castle - "

"So  _that's_ where the rest of Justin and Suliman went! Once we re-sort them out, then we'll at least have another Royal Wizard to help! Your daughter is a genius, Mrs. Hatter!"

Fanny blinked at him. "Oh, well, yes." Then, more certainly, "Yes, she is."

Newly inspired, Howl barked for the half-men to wake up. It was time to get to work.


	31. In Which Sophie Meets a Stick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: In Which Sophie Shanks a Witch. 
> 
> Thank you for all the feedback. It's been such an encouragement. There is one chapter left after this, then an epilogue. The story should be done by next week, if not the end of this week.

The end came rather swiftly on that last day.

After Sophie laid for some time on the floor, feeling frightened for Fanny and sorry for herself and imagining the headless body falling over dormant somewhere and leaving poor Fanny to roast in the heat of the Waste and Howl getting caught and Ingary falling to ruin -

\- she got up.

She dug around first for some food and water. She knew the Witch kept some somewhere; there was no point in going all the way to civilization every day just to provide some food for captives. In a small corridor, Sophie found a bit of bread and cheese, which reminded her a bit of the state she found Howl's moving castle in when she first arrived. A faucet was in another small room, and Sophie fetched her glass from the closed cell by grabbing a stick that had propped the headless corpse up and shoving it between the bars. It eventually hit the cup and she was able to roll it toward the cell door and wiggle it out. She filled the cup twice before she felt satisfied. Then she tried looking at different jars that were on ledges along the wall, hoping there would be something of use. But time passed slowly here, and quickly out there, and soon she felt a great power approaching. Her breath caught in her throat, and she looked around briefly before aiming for the stick again, the long one she'd used to grab the cup. It was all the way over by the cell, too far away. It would require dashing in plain sight of the Witch if she was close enough to the end of the corridor leading from the entrance, and Sophie had no desire to give herself away so easily.

"Stick," she hissed. "Roll over here this instant or I shall feed you to Calcifer!"

It was quiet, but a stick doesn't have ears anyway, so the distance didn't matter as it rolled slowly toward her.

Her heart raced until it arrived near her, just as she heard distant heels clacking on the floor. Her brain spun; what could she do? Either the Witch would think Howl rescued them and run off ready for battle, or she'd scope every nook and cranny. Sophie's mouth went dry, despite the water she'd drunk just a while ago. "Stick," she whispered, "help me fly!" No one had used brooms for travel in a few generations, and then only for the most untalented of witches and wizards who could not do transportation spells, but surely the stick could do the job.

But every time she hopped, the broom positioned between her legs in an unwomanly fashion - how did one properly ride brooms anyway...like a sidesaddle? - she landed right on her feet. She bit of a few curses - some magical and some more commonly utilized - and stared hard at the stick.

And at that moment, Sophie found her means of escape.

Because Ingary had seven-league boots, surely one could have a magic wand. Even if it was made of a stick that had been used to hold up an incomplete body.

Time was running out before Midsummer Day. There was no knight in shining armor to rescue her, no prince - particularly since the present prince was vapid as well as headless, which perhaps fed into each other - to swoop to her side. No wizard, true, to fight for her.

Sophie needed to fight for herself.

Summoning every bit of confidence and magic within her, she gathered herself and concentrated as Howl had taught her and Michael. "You are my magic wand now," she told the stick quietly, with the air of a queen. "You will magnify all my powers!"

It seemed rather flimsy, though.

"And you will be as strong as a rod of steel!" she added. She'd stubbed her toe once when she made the mistake of trying to clean Howl's aluminum and steel mess in the backyard when she first moved into the castle, and knew that would be a strong substance for her stick to model.

Then, she nestled herself down further and waited and hoped and feared and prayed.

The clicking heels stopped. There was none of the Witch's chatter, which was more frightening still. And then the entire castle seemed to boom as she bellowed, "Where. IS.  **IT.** "

There was a metallic crunching sound, and Sophie peeked around the corner of the throne just enough to see the Witch ripping open the bars of the cell. Sophie supposed she could have just retracted the spell and had the cell fade away naturally, but this was apparently a matter of stress relief - a temper tantrum of such proportions that Sophie could never shame Martha or Lettie over their childhood tantrums ever again. Sophie pulled her gaze away and hid deeper behind the throne, desperately thinking of a spell - traditional or her own - she could use. Abruptly, she realized she could turn herself invisible again; it had worked quite well with Miss Angorian.

But then the throne suddenly was crumpled and ripped away, and there before her stood the Witch, who looked every bit as surprised as Sophie.

Sophie was known for getting herself into trouble for not thinking things through, at least of late. She'd done quite well for herself the past couple days, trying to keep her emotions in check and think things through.

But now, she didn't think. She just acted.

She slammed the stick against the Witch's legs.

There was a sickening crack, and the Witch gasped as she crumpled to the floor. And for a brief, brief moment, less than the time of a blink, Sophie was appalled that she'd hit someone so violently, that her spell had worked so well, and that she'd essentially hit an extremely old woman.

But then she thought things through.

She slammed her stick down several times on the Witch's head. "You cursed Howl," -  _thwack_ \- "nearly killed my stepmother," -  _thwack_ \- "nearly killed  _me_ ," -  _thwack_ \- "killed Mrs. Pentstemmon," -  _thwack_ \- "scrambled two men's bodies," -  _thwack_ \- "and cursed my sister." Panting a little, Sophie then screamed, "Serves you right!"

The Witch was not dead; her finger twitched, but she was unconscious with a bloody gash on her head. Sophie's stick had soaked in some of the blood, turning some of the wood a dark color. Sophie shuddered, then looked at the Witch's twitching body. All she wanted to do was run - run back to the castle, back to her family and friends and Howl, get away from this hell.

But in the back of her mind, she could hear Howl warning her not to be too rash, in the form of a memory of him teaching Michael. "I know I'm slapdash," he was saying, "but there's no need for you to copy me. Always read it right through, carefully." In her case, she needed to  _think_  it through. And she could not afford to let her horror and relief overrun her and make her stupid. The Witch would eventually wake up, and there would be disastrous consequences.

Instead, Sophie grabbed the only towel in the bathroom, soaked the stick in water, and dried it with the towel a few times. It was better to wait and see if there was something else that could be done with the Witch. She hoped someone would come soon, though she'd warned Howl off. Oh well. She could be the Witch's warden for a while. Perhaps she could make her own cell somehow.

At that moment, a large crash like a thousand teasets falling resounded through the room, and Sophie instinctively flung herself further into the bathroom as the wall near her cell blew out. She dashed out then, still frantically drying the stick as the towel turned pink, wondering if it was Howl.

And indeed it was, along with another man whom Sophie assumed to be the complete Wizard Suliman.

"If you wouldn't mind, Wizard Howl," Wizard Suliman said, scanning the room, "I would be most obliged if you allowed me to start this battle. I know she has cursed you and caused a great deal of trouble for you, but I'm feeling a little vengeful at the moment. I beg your pardon, but you did not have your body scrambled like that.

"Besides," he added, giving a cursory glance to Sophie and bowing his head slightly to her, "I think you might need to aid your young lady here. I do hope you don't mind my taking the lead."

"Not at all," said Howl rather airily as he climbed down from the rubble into the castle. "Carry on."

_Of course he's fine with this_ , Sophie thought.  _He's terrified of the Witch_.

"Is she not here?" Suliman wondered aloud, trying to see through the darkness at the clutter.

Howl, meanwhile, fastened his eyes on Sophie as she walked into the light of the hot sun of the Waste. They looked at each other for a long while, as if there were so many words for them to share that they were stuck in their throats, then he seemed to take in the sight of her drying off the stick.

"Typical!" Howl cried, coming towards her. "I break my neck to get here, and I find you peacefully tidying up!"

"It's my magic wand," she retorted, but her voice was uncertain.

His became uncertain too. "We don't need wands."

"I do, apparently." She eyed him. He had not bothered to shave or tidy his hair, and there were bags under her eyes. His sleeves were even ripped. She thought she knew what it meant, but the confidence that had fed her strength could not apply in this instance.

_If Howl wants to tell me something_ , she thought,  _he can tell it in plain terms._

And so she merely said, "You look terrible."

He pursed his lips, but he was fighting a smile just as she was. "You don't look much better." His eyes scanned her, and then the smile really did go away. "You do look awful," Howl said gloomily. "If I hadn't been so stupid when you disappeared..."

He took her hand and held it tightly.

"Don't be honest. It's disturbing," Sophie replied. Suddenly, she was exhausted. "Er, do you mind if I sit down a moment? I'm a bit..."

Immediately, showering her with all the concern he must have shown the other girls, he helped her into the shadowed part of the castle, everyone's eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness. They spotted the throne and Howl immediately uprighted it as best he could and set her upon it, though she really had no desire to sit where a dismembered corpse had sat (though it was rightly sorted out now).

"Wizard Howl, would you mind taking a look at this?" Wizard Suliman said abruptly, looking at a crumpled heap further in the shadows. Sophie cleared her throat, feeling oddly embarrassed.

Howl approached after a moment of looking longingly at Sophie. "What is - oh. Is that - "

"Yes."

Both men peered at Sophie, who turned and glared straight ahead, toward the sun-baked Waste.

"Miss Hatter," Wizard Suliman said after a moment, sounding very stunned and slightly amused, "you may have just become the most fearsome creature in all of Ingary."

Howl was even less tactful. "Sophie, were you just  _cleaning the murder weapon_?"

"No!" she argued, fighting the urge to throw the pinkened towel on the floor as if to hide it. She didn't like the idea of leaving more of a mess, anyway. Instead, she folded it into a nice square and set it on one of the large armrests. "It's not a murder weapon if it didn't actually murder anyone."

The men peered more closely, before muttering to themselves that she was indeed alive. Sophie snorted softly at their initial disbelief.

"I'd feel a bit bad about doing her in if she's not fighting back," Wizard Suliman said.

"I don't," Howl replied. "She's lived several lifetimes, and Sophie looks like she's been chained. Her wrists are all black and blue."

Sophie looked at her wrists. They were. She hadn't paid them much heed, and she'd been unchained for some time now.

"But it's up to you," Howl said to Suliman. "Your the one who got your body scrambled, along with the prince."

"You've had a rougher time than we have. You do the honors."

"If you're sure. Stand back!" Howl bellowed. His long sleeves flapped as he raised his arms and uttered a long, strange word. A low rumble of thunder followed, and the cloud started to disperse. Wizard Suliman backed away from the Witch. Her smooth skin began to crumple in on itself, forming the deepest wrinkles Sophie had ever seen. Her closed eyes drooped, her hair whitened, and her back grew bent.

The Witch did not remain like that. Her body flopped in on itself, and her hair fell out and disappeared as she topped to the floor with a clatter, now nothing but a pile of bones.

The three remaining stared for a while, sobered, and feeling a tiny bit of pity. Sophie glanced at Howl, but his marble eyes showed little emotion, not even fear for his own fate.

"We won't find her heart, I suppose," Wizard Suliman said, eyeing the bones. "Her fire demon has that."

"Speaking of which," Howl said, "we will need to deal with her by soon. I don't think she would be very good at creating a body of three people by herself with no Witch to possess, but she is powerful nonetheless, and the curse still holds. In the meantime," he continued, looking back at Sophie, "we should go back to the castle. You need to rest."

"And eat and drink," she replied, cracking a smile.

Howl could not smile back, only picking her up bridal-style -  _not bridal-style_ , thought Sophie, not _bridal-style!_ \- and saying, "We brought some seven-league boots with us. I-"

At that moment, something clicked in Sophie's mind. "You don't need to pick me up! I can walk!" But Howl ignored her. "You don't seem very concerned about finding Miss Angorian."

"She'll try and find us instead, I expect. She'll try getting inside the castle. We'll need to protect - "

"Gah!" Sophie squawked, and Howl winced, since it was right into his ear. She did not care very much; her adrenaline was kicking in again for one last round.

"Ouch! And blast it, Sophie, can't you stop interrupting me?"

"Calcifer notices when something's wrong with your heart, doesn't he? Surely Miss Angorian will realize the Witch is dead. And I was caught because of Mr. Collins. He's working for them! Michael won't open the door for Miss Angorian, but what if she uses Mr. Collins - "

Now it was Howl's time to interrupt, with a fearful glance at Suliman. "Blast!" Howl shouted. "Never mind the boots, I'll have to raise a wind. Sophie, can you bear to run?"

"No" was what she wanted to say, but she knew the urgency in this and waved her wand a bit to try and help her stamina a bit as she told it to. It barely did any good. Her own magic wasn't doing anything to keep her up. She was leaning on Howl more and more, but she doubted the pig would realize it was because she was bad off.

He did. He let out a small curse and whispered a spell which seemed to help Sophie's swimming head and weak body. He set her down on her feet gently.

"What did you do?" she asked as she slowly came into normalcy.

"I hid the symptoms of your anemia. But you'll still need to eat when this is all over."

"Hopefully that won't take long," she said, starting to run with Howl.

"See you at the castle, Suliman!" Howl called over his shoulder, and suddenly things began whipping by as they stepped into the unforgiving sun in the Waste.

"I shouldn't have been more wary of Mr. Collins!" Sophie cried over the whirling wind to Howl. "If I had - "

"Things still would have gotten mucked up!" Howl bellowed back to her. His grip suddenly hurt and things seemed to pelt at Sophie's skin. "Keep running! You'll get hurt at this speed!"

Sophie made her legs work again. "Thank you!" she said instead of apologizing.

"For what?"

"You came and tried to take on the Witch! Even if you had to wait for Wizard Suliman, I'm grateful - !"

Howl stumbled a moment, but recovered. "I would've gone in without him if I had been left to my own devices! The lot of them thought I wouldn't be able to rescue you and your stepmother and fight the Witch at the same time! Can you imagine? Such a lack of faith they have in me! It was good that you had the strength to send the body and Fanny back! You did well!"

Sophie suspected he might have been being overly nice to compensate for her appearance, and squeezed his hand tighter because of it. He squeezed back.

They stumbled up to the now-still castle, the wind dying down slowly, and then abruptly, as they saw a figure by an entrance.

Miss Angorian stood with her back against the door, smiling as Wizard Suliman coasted to a stop beside them.. "Hello, Howl. Miss Hatter. Ah, and Suliman as well."

Seeing her smile drove some horror, which she had not felt since Howl's arrival, into Sophie's heart, but she held her stick out. Miss Angorian frowned at her and it.

Howl let go of Sophie's hand. "What, did you get booted from the party?" he asked easily.

"I appeared, and unfortunately I underestimated the wizards and witches in that place," Miss Angorian said. "But conversely, unfortunately for the lot of you, you underestimated me."

The door opened, and they saw Mr. Collins get pushed out and almost on top of Miss Angorian as someone, presumably Martha, screamed, "And stay out!" before shutting the door again.

"Is it done?" Miss Angorian asked, her severe eyes cutting into him even though she was clearly content.

"Ah, yes, and may I just say that I am honored to - "

"Quiet," she said, and Mr. Collins immediately obeyed, cowed.

"You rat, what did you do?" Sophie shouted at him, but Howl lifted his arm out to keep her from flying off in a rage. Sophie glared at him for this, but remained still.

"Well, they made a barrier, made of honey, I expect," Mr. Collins babbled. "I managed to get in through the shop, and before they could stop me I ruined it. Shall we go in?" he said to Miss Angorian, opening the door to her.

Wizard Suliman and Howl tried to stop her, trying to send spells out at the same time, but Mr. Collins was too close. Miss Angorian might not have had a soul, but Mr. Collins did, and neither wanted to be guilty of full-blown murder. Sophie heard a great deal of yells and calling and thrashing as she and the wizards dashed in.

"Go get it, Collins," Miss Angorian said as she deflected blow after blow of brooms, slight and great magic, and a frying pan once.

"I'm not touching fire!" Mr. Collins said.

The problem was, the Royal Wizards could do nothing. The room was too crowded, full of well-meaning but endangered Hatters and others, and Sophie couldn't think of what to do. She was still half-blinded by the shimmering heat of the Waste, and she'd had very little visual stimulation the past few days. She felt dizzy just looking at everyone, lost and uncertain.

Suddenly, Sophie realized she couldn't see Mr. Collins' head anywhere in the crowd.

While Howl and Wizard Suliman hurried to issue protection spells on everyone, she dove between everyone's legs and found Mr. Collins crouched by the hearth.

Before she could even shout or swing her stick, his hand wrapped quickly around Calcifer's squirming heart and yanked it out of the hearth. Sophie watched in horror as his hands grew dark and red, Mr. Collins' eyes terrified, but he cradled the heart in his hands anyway. He was being controlled by Miss Angorian.

Everything seemed to go strangely quiet then. As if one of those slow-motion scenes in Howl's collection of films, Sophie turned and saw several people gathered around Howl, who was on the floor writhing, eyes squeezed shut. He was clutching his chest.

"He's faking," Miss Angorian said, who clearly had not experienced Howl's histrionics enough to pick up on when he was faking, when he was exaggerating, and when he was truly in pain.

"He's not!" yelped Calcifer, flailing this way and that, scalding a mute Mr. Collins' face. "His heart's really quite soft!"

Sophie felt paralyzed. It was one thing when she was alone with the Witch; no one else was as likely to get in trouble if she made a wrong choice. But now everyone was in danger. Should she go to Howl's side? Try and fight Miss Angorian? Bargain with Mr. Collins?

The Witch would not be the only death today, and Sophie was terrified that she suspected who would follow.

At that thought, Sophie broke through her terror and tightened her grip on her stick. "Beat Miss Angorian, and don't stop, no matter what! Don't hurt anyone else!"

She threw it in Miss Angorian's direction, and to her relief, her stick began thwacking Miss Angorian all on its own, making the fire demon yelp and scream, "I am not to be threatened!"

"Then leave us alone!" Sophie screamed back. "Wizard Suliman, do something about her! Everyone guard the doors and stay back!"

Everyone scrambled, and now that the path was clear, Wizard Suliman threw himself at Miss Angorian and uttered a long sentence of strange words punctuated by thunderclaps. When he stepped back, a lump of something dark and lumpy was in his hand, dropping little bits of ash. Miss Angorian let out a whine like steam, reaching pleadingly for the heart.

"Oh no," he said, stepping back. "By the looks of this, you were trying to get a new heart. Is that why you targeted Wizard Howl?" Without another word - Wizard Suliman did not seem to be the sort of person who made grand speeches like Howl might - he crushed the dark cindery heart in his hands. Miss Angorian let out a weak howl and faded away to nothingness. Sophie's stick fell to the ground, smoldering a little.

There was quiet again, and everyone turned to Howl. He'd stopped writhing and laid motionless, his face a terrible gray.

Sophie whipped her attention back to Mr. Collins. His skin was peeling off, but his body regained autonomy. He dropped Calcifer - along with Howl's heart - on the ground, and Mr. Collins passed out.


	32. Which Contains Broken Hearts and Broken Contracts

Sophie scooped up Calcifer, finding him surprisingly not at all hot to the touch. He was shrinking quickly. Soon he'd be as small as an ember. Immediately, she placed him in the hearth, but she somehow knew this was not the right thing to do. Calcifer flailed this way and that, seeming in deep agony. She felt acutely aware of the way Howl was lying on the floor silently, and her own heart pounded in her ears even while she watched the dark, slightly charred heart in the hearth roll this way and that with Calcifer's rocking.

"Sophie, break it!" he screamed, and it was that which terrified her all the more, for Calcifer was one to yell and complain but never to scream in such excruciating pain. And that was when she realized that things could really be the end this time.

"I-I assume you don't mean the heart," she said with a frightened laugh, hoping to God that she would be granted some wisdom to figure this out. "Will this kill you?"

"If it was anyone else, it would! But we'll die if you don't!"

In Mari's retellings of fairy tales, the good people always won. They had their happily-ever-after futures to look forward to. But Sophie was not a heroine, because heroines always knew what to do.

She looked at Mrs. Fairfax, Wizard Suliman, and Michael (who'd just told Martha to send for a doctor for Mr. Collins), but they looked almost as confused and frightened as she.

"Sophie," Lettie said nervously from the table, where she was holding Fanny's hand.

It was all up to her again, then. But she couldn't bear it. If she messed up...if Calcifer died...if  _Howl_ died...

In Mari's fairy tales, the good people always won...

"You believe that fairy tale logic?" Howl had once said to her, when they first met...

"Aren't there any other witches or wizards to call?" wailed Sophie, then heaved in a deep breath. She scooped up Calcifer again. "Have another thousand years, Calcifer!" she cried, and plucked the flame from the heart.

He looked like a blue teardrop, and for a moment she thought he looked so because his life was going out before she remembered that blue flames were the hottest of them all. "I feel so light," Calcifer murmured, and his tiny arms appeared again, as if he was assessing them. He floated around her head, and then it dawned on him what had happened.

"I'm free," he murmured, and then he caused a warm gust of wind that sent Sophie's reddish hair back as he flew up the chimney, crying those words over and over.

"Wait!" she yelled after him. "What do I do with Howl's heart?"

Calcifer, apparently, was long gone, or too giddy to attend.

The heart was starting to slow its already-sluggish beating. "Keep beating at a normal, healthy pace," she told it vehemently. It began to obey, although it took a moment. "There's a good heart," she cooed anxiously. "Er, if someone would perhaps get a jar of water for it, I would appreciate it, thank you."

She heard nothing for a minute, and then a great deal of commotion as everyone scrambled to fulfill her request. All the time, she kept the soft heart cradled in her hands, protecting it with what little protection she felt she could give. Michael was the one who came with the jar, and she gently put it in, continuing to praise it for its hard work. The heart was Howl's, and therefore loved being appreciated, so it beat even more evenly.

"Someone take Howl into his room," she commanded to the group without looking at them. "I want someone to stay down here and wait for Calcifer in case he comes back. I want him to walk me through what I have to do. Wizard Suliman, do you think your father might know - ?"

"My father taught me all he knows," he answered gravely. "He never learned how to break contracts, nor did I."

"Blast," she said with very little conviction, sounding more pitiful than frustrated.

"Boy - Michael, was it? Couldn't the doctor Martha's grabbing help us?" Fanny ventured from her seat. She was very tired looking, and her face was sunburnt.

He shook his head. "I doubt it. This isn't medical; it's magical."

Then Sophie led them up to Howl's room, where the Prince, Wizard Suliman, and Michael helped set the unconscious wizard on his bed. Spiders and cobwebs abounded, and Mrs. Fairfax wrapped her arm around Fanny's and declared, "How can the boy recover in a room as filthy as this?" It reminded Sophie why she and Fanny were such good friends - they thought alike in many respects. No doubt Fanny, if she were in her normal state, would have declared the same first, except a bit louder.

Lettie continued to stay downstairs with Fanny, Sophie saw, and soon the Prince departed as well in hopes of having someone arrest Mr. Collins when (and if) he recovered. Everyone kept a respectful distance from Sophie, who set the jar on the nightstand and was given a small bowl of water and a washcloth. She dampened the cloth and began dabbing Howl's sweating face, her hand shaking to a degree she had not allowed while holding his heart. His breathing was a little shallow and labored, but he was alive. That was enough for Sophie - for now, anyway.

Sophie did not leave his bedside. Mrs. Fairfax eventually went downstairs to send messages to some acquaintances of hers from her days with Mrs. Pentstemmon, asking for advice, and then she looked after Fanny in Lettie's stead. Wizard Suliman also contacted acquaintances.

The sisters then came and sat beside Sophie, talking quietly to each other, occasionally suggesting to Sophie that perhaps Howl would be all right - after all, it had been hours since his heart became bruised and demon-free and dumped in a jar, and he was still alive-and she could actually move downstairs now.

But Sophie did not move. She knew this was not like the night when Howl went out to get drunk after the fight with the Witch of the Waste, leaving the lot of them to wonder miserably at his fate. Well, in many ways she did feel the same as she did then. She had withdrawn from the others, felt a sort of deadness inside, and truly did fear that Howl was dead, or would die. She felt the exact same thing, except back then she had Calcifer's assurance that Howl would live, and while most of her anxiety came from not being able to see him in person, somehow it also, paradoxically, made the danger he faced seem not quite real.

This time, however, Calcifer was no longer connected to Howl, and the latter lay on the bed in front of her, his hair mussed and face unshaved and clothes unkempt and heart in a jar.

Should she use her powers again? The question kept repeating itself in her mind, but while things worked out with Calcifer, she did not have the heart - no pun intended - to do guesswork with Howl. Not with something this important.

The only comfort she felt was with her sisters, whom Sophie knew were doing their best to look after her for a change. She hated being a burden, but at the same time she greatly appreciated them for this. She allowed them to fuss over her to a degree that would otherwise annoy her greatly, if circumstances were not as they were. And she could not help but love them deeply for it.

Night fell, as did the hopes the others had harbored that Howl would recover. As night crawled into morning, his heart grew worse. No matter how much Sophie spoke to it, it gave only stuttering little attempts to listen to her. Magic can only do so much, or at least when the natural order is commanding otherwise. Sophie alternated between screaming at the heart, and at Howl, and sinking into silence once again with the exception of encouraging the heart again.

"Where the deuce is Calcifer?" she hissed at Michael, who had just gotten back from setting up a finding spell.

"I've never worked on trying to find a fire demon before," he said in an attempt to pacify his own concern and hers.

Just when Sophie thought she was about to rip the boy's head off, Wizard Suliman burst into the room. "The fire's back," he said, and in zoomed Calcifer, looking altogether too cheerful, at least for the moment. As he noticed Sophie's disheveled appearance, Howl's stuttering heart, and the body -  _no_ , Sophie thought resolutely,  _it's still Howl_  - he cried, "What, you still haven't put the heart back?"

"Someone dump water on him!" Sophie screamed, lunging and being held back only by a very shocked Lettie. Martha grabbed the basin of water, though, posing fiercely.

Suliman glared at Calcifer, who darted slightly to the side with a bit of a panicked expression.

"I should've thought you'd figure it out yourself!" Calcifer shot back, and now he did seem a bit more concerned for the state of things. "You're always doing things, even if you don't always think them through!"

"I know that!" she yelled, "and that's precisely what I'm trying to avoid this time around!"

"Well, no one else can pull this off except you!" he told her stonily.

"Why me?!"

"Because of the power of love," Calcifer said sarcastically. "No, because you speak life into things, of course! Although, now that I think of it, it shouldn't work as well without some strong feeling behind it...Really, you two sure make a fine couple, both such cowards when it comes to each other that you botch everything up!"

"I'm the eldest of three!" But now Sophie saw it was only an empty excuse at this point. She didn't really believe that was what held her back from saving him. It was because she was so terrified her magic would do the wrong thing and fail him completely. She couldn't lose him. She couldn't.

Calcifer seemed to read her thoughts, because he said bluntly, "It isn't as if things could get much worse for him. And it's Midsummer Day tomorrow. He might be taken to the Witch anyway - in death."

The argument ended quickly when Howl grunted, and Sophie realized he was perspiring again. Then his body went limp. The heart in the jar stuttered one more beat, and it went a small eternity before beating again.

Suliman told Michael what to do to perform some sort of healing spell with him, but Sophie was not attending. She was somewhat aware that everyone, including a a less frail Fanny, were in the room, flooding it with inquiries and cries and yells. She did not attend. Instead, she took the heart and decided to stop being frightened. Sophie gathered all the strength and pigheadedness and impulsiveness and bossiness and magic and love she had acquired over the past couple of months and pressed the heart against the leftish part of Howl's disturbingly still chest and pushed.

"Get in there!" she said in her indecorous way. "Get in there and work!"

Gradually, the heart started pumping again as it sank into Howl's chest. Sophie kept repeating the words, though, because it felt like she was pushing a boulder up a hill, and she would not rest until she passed the crest of it. She dared not slip. To say this was a difficult spell was an understatement. It was an unnatural one, which was odd for spells, one that should not be attempted because it was the most unholy part of magic to sacrifice a heart to save a fire demon.

But she persevered, felt herself passing the crest of the hill, and everything became suddenly easy. She slumped against Howl's chest, exhausted. She felt the rise and fall of it, and she thought she heard a steady beating within it, although she thought perhaps it was her own heart in her ears again.

But the breathing was real, because Howl coughed, and Sophie's head bounced uncomfortably as she did so. Up she sat, and so did Howl, who groaned and let out a long, sighing curse. "What the devil did you do to me?"

Sophie could hardly believe it had actually worked, and so she made no swift retort.

Everyone distracted the two of them anyway, because they all bounded up to the couple and shouted various things about how happy they were and welcoming Howl back. Neither did much responding, and their eyes were fairly locked on each other. Howl seemed a little befuddled still, but then, Sophie felt a bit lost herself.

Eventually, everyone seemed to get the idea that they were overwhelmed, and the group slowly trickled out of the room. The last one to leave was probably Martha or Lettie, because no one else would have made the indiscretion - probably intentional - to close the door of a bedroom with an unwed man and woman inside it.

"I feel like I've slept for ages. Were you the princess who kissed me to waking?" Howl joked soon after.

To hear Howl joke like that made Sophie suddenly grin, barely holding back from tackling him. "Don't be absurd," she said with a cracking voice, trying her best to sound curt and failing.

"What did you do to me?" he said, but he was smiling too.

"I gave you a conscious. Does it feel burdensome?"

"Witch," he sneered teasingly. She laughed. He swung his legs over to the side of the bed so he was sitting next to her. After he did so, his hand absently drifted to his chest. And stilled.

His questioning eyes - which, Sophie noticed, seemed much less like marbles - met hers. She nodded.

"Calcifer?" Howl said.

"He's free, but he came back, even before he knew you were still...sick. He was very unhelpful with this whole mess, I must say. Selfish old thing."

Howl replied, "Don't blame him too much. He is a devil of a demon, after all." He looked as if he meant to look away, but his eyes barely strayed when they landed back on hers. "Odd," Howl said, his voice a bit lower and softer than usual. "I thought a heart was supposed to regulate my emotions more, but it seems to be doing the exact opposite."

At any other time, Sophie would have snorted. And she would, if he used some other cheesy line tomorrow or any other day as long as they both should live. Howl had a lot of learning to do in real love, to be sure, but so did she. She once supposed they'd have to learn together. For now she only smiled, because that seemed all she could do, especially since it hit her that she was extremely tired, and it was almost six in the morning, and falling asleep here did not seem as bad an idea as it would seem during the day.

She thought Howl seemed to be leaning towards her, and her sluggish mind made her think that perhaps he was tired too, despite all his sleeping earlier. But before she could think more of it, she needed to turn away and sneeze.

"Are you allergic to me, Miss Nose?" Howl said wryly when she turned back to him.

"It's the dust in your room," she said loftily, or as loftily as she could while laughing. "It's natural I should have an allergic reaction, after I've been in here for so long looking after you."

His smile grew incredibly sweet there -  _blast him_ , Sophie thought good-naturedly - and he said that he would need to hear about that later. (He did, from listening to Mrs. Fairfax, who had little filter and endless words. For once, it was highly appreciated, and the regained heart leapt a little in his chest) As it was, he looked away and said musingly, "Well, if the dust in this room bothers you so much, I suppose I really will need to clean it then."

Sophie thought the whack he received on the arm for the implication was wholly deserved.

But then she realized that Howl really was not quite the rogue he presented himself as, and thought he might be talking about sometime in the future, when they would both have rings.

"You know," he said with a grin, not even bothering to rub his arm, "I really do think I ought to though. If we're going to live a proper life together, I can't have you sneezing at me every time I lean in to kiss you."

"What do you mean, 'a proper life together'?" she asked, deciding ignorance was the best option for now.

"I think - " and here Howl took one of her hands " - we ought to live happily ever after."

Sophie nearly burst out laughing at this, for it was so very much exactly what Mari would have eaten up. But it was out of sheer giddiness that this impulse came to her. Then she realized fully what he meant, and she became a little calmer and even happier.

"It should be hair-raising," Howl added, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that at last resulted in Sophie letting out a snort, which Howl actually quite liked and had been waiting for.

"You'll exploit me," Sophie replied with false wariness, trying to look serious.

"And you'll cut up my suits to teach me," Howl told her with a victorious beam. "I'm glad we've got that settled, then."

He leaned in again.

But then, Sophie moved away.

He looked at her, assessing her features. But she was assessing things on her own. Her smile flickered away, and his dimmed in response.

"Happily ever sounds nice," she said slowly. "But perhaps we should find it separately."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to read reactions to the ending. Don't worry, the epilogue will be posted in the next few days.


	33. In Which an Epilogue is Presented

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started this story, I was 14, four months into a new school after moving to a new state, and two months away from graduating middle school. I college graduated with an English degree, recently graduated with my MAT and teaching license, was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, whipped it into shape, and wrote several of my own books. I've gone from a shy bookworm to a more confident young woman (perhaps a bit like Sophie), and it's funny to think of how much as changed and how much as stayed the same for the past eleven years.
> 
> Though there were long periods when I did not write this story, it was always in the background of my life as something to finish. And now I have. I'm so grateful for the feedback I've received both here and on FanFiction.net. I know only a few seem to be actively reading this, but to any who stumbled on this story along the way, I want to thank you. Coming back to writing fanfiction more frequently has been a delight. Thank you, everyone. I hope you enjoy this final installment. 
> 
> P.S. Seaglass is based on Positano, Italy.

"I hardly see," said Prince Justin, "why I need a Royal Wizard to accompany me to meet my betrothed."

It wasn't exactly the prince's fault he was so hostile; after a full year of negotiations, Strangia and Ingary had decided to ally themselves to avoid a war. The best way to do this was, naturally, through marriage. Thus, Prince Justin and Princess Beatrice became engaged. Though the prince was currently en route to meet her before the wedding, having been absent from the ball held a year ago, he knew there was no getting out of the marriage.

Howl magnanimously said, as their carriage rolled up toward Strangia's royal palace, "I'm happy to provide some level of protection instead of dozens of soldiers trailing after you."

The prince eyed the wizard. Prince Justin had gotten to know Wizard Howl over the past year, and was able to better tell when he was being a little dishonest.

But really, Howl was perfectly happy to do this. While Prince Justin and Wizard Suliman were closer friends, Suliman had confided in Howl that he'd much rather stay at home in Ingary. He'd hate to be away from his pupil for too long. She might forget what she'd learned by the time he got back.

"Naturally," Howl had agreed with enough false innocence that he got an elbow to the ribs by Suliman.

Howl could have figured out his own way of slithering out of the job, of course. But he had no desire to. Suliman's desire to stay home perfectly coincided with his desire to leave.

After a proper introduction to the Strangian court, where Princess Beatrice and Prince Justin made polite though vaguely antagonistic courtesies to one another, Howl scanned the gathering. His eyes darted across the crowd several times before he caught sight of familiar red-gold hair. His heart - after a year, it was still odd when it did this - sped up with adrenaline. But it turned out to be an older woman who'd used some dye to try and relive her glory days. Disheartened, he looked around again before this time - this time - he found her.

* * *

After Howl recovered, everyone was invited to a special audience with the king, but Howl, Sophie, and Wizard Suliman were the ones who received special recognition. Sophie had been warned that he might try to make a Royal Witch out of her, but she'd seen how busy Howl was with his duties, and Sophie had no plans to be tied down with such responsibility at this time. Though nervous, the king did not daunt her nearly as much as he once had. When he tried to grant her the position, she said what she'd rehearsed: that she would be grateful if she could only work freelance. She had much learning to do anyway, she said. Howl had cursed later, saying, "Why hadn't I thought of that line?" Sophie had retorted that maybe if he was less concerned about sending someone else to do his dirty work of rejecting the king, he would have. He'd acted affronted by her words, but the drama was more forced than usual. And Sophie understood why.

"Happily ever after sounds nice," she had told him, "but perhaps we should find it separately."

He'd stared at her for some time, and she watched with guilt and a selfish gladness when his expression grew more and more desperate. "The curse - " he'd stammered. "I found out it came of being too honest. I was being too honest with you. I had to back away and make you think I didn't want you. I never meant - "

"I know," she said quietly. He looked at her, shocked. "Well," she amended, "I didn't know at first. But I had plenty of time to think in the Waste, and everything seemed to fit together. If you really didn't want me, you would have tried to subtly make me leave the castle. I figured you would have thought it inconvenient or uncomfortable to have a woman you'd dismissed living with you. And you would have tried to sound more dramatic when cutting it off with me."

He looked impressed for a moment before he remembered what was at stake. "Then why?" he said. Howl almost looked like he was about to cry. "Blast," he said, rubbing the left side of his chest. "This is inconvenient. I feel like a mess."

"I'm sorry," she said, looking at the blanket they sat upon.

"Don't say sorry," he said desperately. "Tell me why. I love you. If you don't love me - "

"But I do!" she cried, turning red and staring at the blanket harder than ever. Despite her best efforts, she half-expected he'd begin retreating now that he got her to admit it. But his grip on her hand tightened, and she dared looking at his face. It was still a little pale, and his eyes shone, and his hair was a mess, and his roots were showing, and he had scraggly hairs forming on his chin, and he had dark circles under his eyes, and he hadn't brushed his teeth, and he had the most brilliant smile on his face and for a moment all she could think of was allowing him to kiss her and sweep her into his arms.

But she didn't dare give in.

"But we'll regret it," she said, trying to sound businesslike but only coming across as remorseful. "I never had a chance to figure out what I want to  _do_  - on my own. And you - you just got your heart back. I'm the only one who's been here most of the time, so it's natural - "

"Don't do that," he said sharply. "Don't make it sound like I fell in love with you for convenience."

Her own heart swelled at the words.  _"I fell in love with you."_ It was the most powerful words he'd ever spoken, more powerful than any spell.

"I've been with dozens of women and I never - Hold on, that was a mistake - "

But Sophie couldn't help stuttering into laughter. She was totally exhausted, completely and utterly.

"What I'm trying to say," Howl said, "was I've had plenty of experience meeting women. You're the first one - the only one - I wanted like this."

"Stop being so honest," she sighed. "It's making this so much more difficult."

They sat in silence for a while, the two of them. "What is it you want to do?" he then said dully.

"Princess Beatrice told me to come visit her sometime. I might do that."

"Be an ambassador of peace?"

She smiled slightly. "Sure."

"What else?"

"I want to travel. See things. I - I love it here, I do. But I'm afraid I went from clinging to the hat shop to clinging to the castle. I want to make sure I'm not..."

"Missing out?"

She felt bad, and didn't reply.

Howl sighed loudly, flopping backwards on the bed so he was facing the ceiling. Sophie knew she shouldn't, but she leaned back as well - slowly - so they were side by side. Their hands were still joined.

"I met so many people, that I'm confident I know what I want," Howl said after a moment. "But...you haven't."

"Things might be different for you now," she pointed out, trying not to blurt out that she did want him, that she knew it. But she was afraid, too. If his heart led him somewhere else...if she longed to go and see things for herself... "You've got your heart back."

He looked ready to argue, but closed his mouth. But the words escaped anyway after a minute. "If you were mine, I'd never keep you locked away in the flower shop, you know. It doesn't need to be a flower shop, anyway. We could travel, do things. We could explore new worlds, or mine. You never did go on a plane. You could travel on your own, too, if you wanted."

"Howl..."

"I know," he sighed again. "But I wanted to try anyway."

She squeezed his hand in appreciation. He squeezed back.

"Can I write you, at least?" he asked.

"You'd want to?" she asked, surprised. She was sure he wouldn't want to wait.

"Of course. You're my woman true and fair." Then he sat up abruptly. "What about this? We write for a year but we'll live our own lives. If, at the end of the year, we still want to see each other, we'll meet. No obligations."

Sophie at first felt a selfish sting at the "no obligations" comment, but he was looking at her so passionately that she realized it was for her own benefit, not his.

"Deal," she said, holding out her hand to shake. He kissed it instead.

* * *

Sophie initially set out at Seahaven, then went further north. Most port towns proved unattractive; they were smelly and dark places. But the exception was Seaglass, a place where the town was built vertically against a steep hill. It was known for its shopping and light clothing, and Sophie lodged in a small apartment while making money cleaning and casting spells. She studied often, sometimes talking with an old magical couple in the area to learn of their magic style. Sophie had always enjoyed learning. She thought of going back to school, but found that studying what she liked and making money was much more attractive than hoping she got into a university - woman though she was - and spending money to learn. She messed up frequently; one young man came to her door and she realized that her spell had utterly backfired and made him lose all his hair. He'd been quite frustrated, but after coaxing the little spindles of hair already blooming to hurry and grow, he left quite satisfied by the wavy locks he now sported. But she learned, and she got better. She found herself less inclined to think of herself as a failure and more as a learner. It did wonders to her confidence.

She wrote her family frequently, as well as Michael, leaving little notes at the bottom of his for Calcifer to read. Howl's were written at times more frequently than her correspondence with the others, at times less. Sometimes, she wanted to share everything she saw and felt. Othertimes, she felt shy and like she was further adding insult to injury. But Calcifer, on one of his visits to see her to lounge in her hearth, had confided that Howl often slimed quite a bit when Michael got a letter and he didn't. It would ruin the floors, Michael feared, and they didn't have money to replace that considering Howl's spending habits.

"He still hasn't improved that?" she said, pink in the cheeks from the thought that he wanted to hear from her.

"He's gotten better. He's started hoarding some money in his room - for a rainy day, he says. I think he's preparing for when you come back," he said with a smirk.

The pink darkened to red.

Calcifer's visits were often what Sophie needed to combat homesickness. She missed her little town, but most of all she missed the castle. Long into the night, they would sing his little saucepan song, and Sophie would get pointers on spells. By the morning, unless it was raining, he would be gone.

But after several of these visits, Sophie realized she missed living with others. Sometimes, in her letters to Howl, she would want to mention that the shop next to Northrup's restaurant (a place on the beach that served the best prawns in town) was empty, and might be worth putting an entrance in, but she never did.

After keeping up a correspondence with Princesses Hilda and Beatrice, she was invited by the former to help her organize the royal library - for a wage, of course. Though the wage was surprisingly low for a job for royalty, Sophie would be staying in the Royal Mansion. She happily agreed, after securing permission to travel there by the King of Ingary - borders were still almost in a lockdown, due to lingering tensions.

Once again, she found that royals could be much less daunting than one might think - provided they were the right sort of people. Princess Hilda and Sophie often worked together in the library, sometimes reading more than organizing. Sophie found that she could find a great deal of magic resource books that rivaled Kingsbury's library. Sophie studied but found little about her brand of magic. Nonetheless, she liked practicing some of the new spell styles she learned.

When they weren't tidying the library, she, Princess Hilda, and King Adolphus X dined together. The king always made sure cookies and crumpets were available, and Sophie feared she would be much heavier by the time she and Howl reunited. Then she thought it didn't matter; if he didn't like her because she gained weight, then he could go bald and suffer. But then she thought of Howl, and she found herself irritated at the thought of him weighing less than her.

She didn't have to worry about that as much anymore, because things got quite busy afterward and she had little time to snack. Royal funds were disappearing, and it appeared that while some royals could be very down-to-earth, others were vicious. Such proof came in the form of Prince Ludovic, who was cooperating with a lubbock for the High Norland throne. Things became quite horrible and messy, but Sophie and Royal Wizard Norland, along with Matilda, the Witch of Montalbino, worked together and eliminated them. After fighting the Witch of the Waste, it was actually rather anticlimactic.

When she'd written about her adventure to Howl, he announced he'd convince the king to let him visit. She used the box-like thing he'd given her on her birthday to respond, which had a fast messaging service. It was almost instantaneous. It took her a long time to get used to the buttons that appeared on the screen, but it served her well to warn him off now.

**A visit from a Royal Wizard of Ingary would surely not be allowed. Things are still a bit tense,** she wrote back.

**I'm as harmless as a fly! And things sound dangerous. I'd be happy to lend my services.**

That made her annoyed and happy.  **Things were taken care of. Besides, if you're harmless, what good could you be?**

**You're too cruel, Sophie,** Howl responded.

**I can handle it** , she responded firmly, and when he said,  **I know :(** she couldn't help but smile, though the little mark at the end confused her.

* * *

Eventually, Princess Beatrice insisted she come visit. Wizard Norland recommended his great-niece Charmain take over Sophie's occupation as librarian, and Sophie said goodbye to the country. Princess Beatrice's company was far different than Princess Hilda's. Princess Beatrice taught Sophie horseback riding and archery, though Sophie rarely, if ever, hit the target unless a bit of magical intervention was involved. Sophie meanwhile provided a compassionate ear for Beatrice to complain in when the engagement was arranged.

"I shall hate him," Beatrice grumped, leaning against the wall of the stable. "I'm going to run away and live in the woods."

"Don't do that," Sophie said, struggling to get off her horse without breaking her neck. "Running away can be a bigger pain than one might think. You should be plain about your desires, though," she said, thinking of Mr. Collins (who was now healed but in prison) and Fanny. "Don't agree to the marriage if you don't want to go through with it."

"Oh, I have from day 1," Beatrice grumbled. "I had a good shouting match with my father. And then I threatened the ambassador. I"m afraid I nearly made him cry. But it's what will bring peace."

Sophie felt very sorry for her. But at least Prince Justin wasn't a Mr. Collins. Sophie described what the prince was like, from what little she got to know of him before she went traveling. Beatrice's spirits lifted slightly, but not much.

"I feel better," she admitted, "but your choice in men does concern me, Sophie."

"I told you, Howl's behavior at the ball was to avoid the curse," Sophie protested, then changed the subject.

Nonetheless, Princess Beatrice insisted on Sophie coming to the prince's arrival for moral support. Sophie'd shrugged and agreed. It would be good to see Prince Justin again, anyway. He seemed like a nice person.

She hadn't expected to see Howl, though.

* * *

It was agreed that the Ingarians would rest before a royal dinner. Howl snuck out, though, and after using a quick finding spell, he located Sophie. She was outside, wearing a large hat - one she made, perhaps - and wearing a thankfully not-gray dress. It was green, and fit her well. Her hair was freely falling along her back, outside of its usual braid. She was reading.

For a while, he just took her in. When they made eye contact in the crowd, she'd widened then averted her eyes, but she looked at him several times throughout the meeting. He, meanwhile, couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" she said without looking up.

"And leave my eyes to view much less pleasant things? No thank you," he said, unsure if he was too suave for her to appreciate or not suave enough. She rolled her eyes and brought the book closer to her face.

"I didn't hear you were coming," she said.

"A Royal Wizard was deemed acceptable, and Ben wanted to stay with your sister."

She looked up then, her face slightly pink, but a delighted grin on her face. "I knew it," she said triumphantly. "I got only snippets from Martha, and Fanny's been distracted since she married Mr. Smith, so I got nothing from her, but Lettie mentioned him a little too much in her letters to be 'just his pupil' as she always says."

"Brilliant work," he said with a grin. "May I sit with you, my lady?"

She snorted - he'd missed the sound of that - and scooted over on the bench. He sat beside her. He forgot how small she was compared to him.

Sophie, meanwhile, was taking in the fact that Howl seemed a little larger than life; it had been a year since she last saw him, and she forgot how lanky he was. He wasn't as skinny as he once was, though; he seemed like he was taking care of himself.

They chatted about everything and nothing then before falling into a deep discussion of magic theory and the nature of lubbocks - were they a sort of man or a sort of creature, or both? They both utterly missed the royal dinner. Later, they heard that Prince Justin and Princess Beatrice fell into a shouting match - the former after much goading from the latter - before both decided to leave. It was only after they both ran into each other in the stables, each hoping to outrun their annoyance through a good ride, that they began to argue in a more civilized manner. They rode off into the twilight. When they came back late, they were much more companionable, with Beatrice announcing, "If anyone else can put up with me, I'd like to see the person. And vice versa."

So the marriage was on after all.

Howl and Sophie, meanwhile, paid no attention to these things. They had gotten to know each other very well over their correspondence, and while at first both had been worried they'd have nothing to talk about, conversation came easily. They laughed together over many things, and better yet, they bickered like the old days, before laughing once again. The only thing that changed was that they knew each other a bit better now, he was more honest, and she was more confident.

"Tell me something," Howl said late that night. "If I hadn't come with the prince, would you still have wanted to meet? It's been about a year already."

"Yes," she said, almost immediately. "But it was odd to bring up, and I wasn't sure how long Princess Beatrice would have liked me to stay before and after the wedding. And I didn't want to make you slither off."

"I wouldn't!" Howl said.

"You would."

"Maybe I would," he said thoughtfully, "if I experienced another of your cleaning rages again."

"All right, but your castle deserved it," she declared. "It was awful."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Oh, yes it was."

"I didn't hoard that many things, at least."

"There was dust everywhere, even on 'clean' dishes! And so many spiders!"

Now Howl was indignant. "The spiders need a home!"

"Yes! Outside!"

"It rains outside!"

"Other spiders do just fine, yours will too!"

"I won't clean out the spiders."

"That's fine. I will."

"You will not."

"I will too!"

"Sophie, if you do, I swear I'll divorce you."

"We're not even married, and how dare you cherish spiders over your imaginary wife!"

"Dismissing the spiders would be like - like - like taking a dozen precious dogs and leaving them to die in the Waste! And we were going to be married!"

"We never got engaged! Officially!"

"We were! Here!" And he slammed down a small velvet box on the bench between them.

They both were still glaring and slightly out of breath. Sophie looked down and picked up the box. Opening it, she found a ring with small diamonds. When the light from the lights along the path caught it, it shimmered with rainbows.

She slowly closed it. "My sisters are going to hate how you proposed."

"It was rather awful, wasn't it?"

"I don't know if I could have taken you seriously if you'd tried to be romantic about it, though."

"That's the truth. Do you want a drawn out engagement, or may I whisk you away to get it legalized by the king tonight?"

"Can we perhaps just have a month to go back home after the royal wedding and have a small one of our own? I can invite my family and yours. Oh, how has Megan been dealing with Ingary?"

"She barely visits. I think it frightens her too much - it's too odd for her practical tastes. But she'll come just to see for herself that I'm settling down. And she does like you, especially after how you cared for Neil and Mari and saved me."

Both of them were smiling and smiling, a little madly. "Can we at least relocate the spiders to the cubby under the stairs?" she said.

"That can be arranged."

And this time, when he kissed her, it was with a ring on her finger and not a doubt in either heart.


End file.
